


Absolution

by SunnseanicArts



Series: Arrows and Bullets [5]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Disease, Drunk Sex, Dry Humping, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Immunity, Jealousy, M/M, Major Character Injury, Memory Loss, Murder, Past Sexual Abuse, Plotheavy, Possessive Behavior, Sexual Content, Slash, Slightly Abusive Relationship, Slow Build, Torture, Triangle Relationship, Vigilantism, Violence, Zombies, bandits, handjobs, long fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 391,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnseanicArts/pseuds/SunnseanicArts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor got Murphy back. Daryl and Connor are slowly getting used to the sudden changes in their friendship. Woodbury,with its walls and community, feels like heaven on earth. But is it? The past. Upbringing. Religion. Family. Masses of Walkers. Bandits. Immunity. Disease. And a psychopath within their walls. Those are just a couple of stones in their path. Plotheavy Connaryl Slash fic. With a changed Murphy thrown in the mix. Takes place during the Walking Dead season 4 tv storyline, but with a bunch of changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crumbling Walls

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is. Part five of my Walking Saints series. I hope you like this fic as much as the other ones. I still got some nice ideas, and I hope that the whole series is still intriguing enough for you! Most of the upcoming storylines are mentioned in the story summary and tags, so I hope those got your interest.
> 
> I've always wanted the Connaryl to happen, but I didn't want to disappoint the friendshippers in my first three fics. The fourth fic was all build up for this one, and I'm super happy that I finally get to properly slash my OTP in this fic right here!

  
  


Their return was both an amusing but also awkward one. Although the group would ask countless questions about why the hell Connor and Daryl had run off without them they still seemed to be incredibly happy about the fact that they were back. Rick gave his usual leader-ish speeches on how they shouldn't do that and how they should all stick together, but all of that soon got forgotten when the group got to meet Murphy.

Their reaction was beyond funny and entertaining for Connor, but embarrassing and annoying for both Daryl and Murphy. The first thing the group noticed was their freakish resemblance. Some admitted that they had never really believed Connor whenever he had told them that Murphy looked -exactly- like Daryl.

Rick had seen the picture so he already knew, but they were still beyond mesmerized by their resemblance, a fact that both Daryl and Murphy continuously tried to deny. What really sent the both of them over the edge was that some of the Woodbury residents even thought -they- were twins, not Connor and Murphy.

Daryl decided that he hated the guy even more when he noticed how Murphy seemed to be getting along rather well with his group, because much in contrast to him he was just as sociable and easygoing as his brother Connor. The hunter was close to boiling whenever the younger MacManus would talk to Carol or Rick, feeling incredibly jealous and protective of them to even the point where he would start a conversation with Carol completely on his own, just to keep her all to himself and not lose -everyone- he cared about to this freaking clown.

The bigger problem was the fact that they finally had to break the news to everyone about the MacManus' twins' immunity, because there was no other way around explaining their scars and survival. Daryl certainly didn't like that the two outed themselves as 'freaks', because he had already seen what could happen around them as soon as people knew.

But it wasn't like anybody seemed to care about what he had to say or what he thought. Today it was all eyes on Murphy MacManus - miracle survivor of a headshot, bite and travel through the country on his own, only to be reunited with his formerly super-depressed twin brother, who was now laughing and almost beaming with joy.

It made Daryl want to puke.

It wasn't like he didn't grant Connor some happiness. Hell, even Murphy after he'd seen the kid cry back in the middle of nowhere. And he even granted the whole of Woodbury to be in ave over the MacManus twins, because right now they really needed to hear some good, positive stories of hope, judging from the -hopeless- situation they found themselves in because of the walker-invasion. But all that talk and chitchat about lost brothers just made him feel sick and he wanted out.

It wasn't like he wanted to be at the centre of attention instead. He'd always been the quiet one, the passive one, the stay out of everything one. He just didn't want to hear any of it any longer. It especially hurt to hear all the 'brother' talk because it kept reminding him of Merle, kept reminding him how lonely he really was now. And how funny that was, really. He was surrounded by living people, a community, good friends. And yet he had never felt so incredibly alone.

It hurt knowing that he could never trade places with Connor. Get Merle back instead of Murphy. Because no matter what, he knew that he was going to throw his best friend into that deep pit again, that deep pit of self-pity and self-destruction and pain. And no matter how much it hurt him himself, he'd still rather put others in front of himself.

Meaning that he'd rather let Connor have all the current fuzz than trade the whole thing with Merle's return. So all he could do was leave them to it, let them ask the MacManus twins about all kinds of shit and stories, he even let them hear all the latest Woodbury news and what was up with all the walkers. He knew he could get that information later, so he headed for his former apartment to be on his own and rest a bit.

The apartment _he'_ d shared with Connor and he just knew that those times were over as well. He was back to the start. He had no one, Merle was gone, and Connor had pretty much _everything_. And as he made his way over to the door and looked at the crowd, he could see that the Irishman was watching him leave.

* * *

They managed to get Murphy an apartment of his own, now that they had more houses than residents in Woodbury. Although Connor felt a -bit- bad about it there was absolutely no way he -wasn't- going to share the room with his sibling. They'd done this sort of thing before the apocalypse, and he sure as hell was going to keep doing that now.

Even if it meant that he and Daryl would go separate ways in that regard. He knew that the hunter wasn't going to take it too well, because his jealousy was still more than obvious. But this was the painful truth, the truth that Daryl had already talked about.

Murphy always came first.

Connor was standing by the window, leaned against the wall. He looked at Murphy with a smile, really letting the sight of him sink in. His sibling was looking around the room, staring at the pictures on the wall and then slowly placing his jacket on the bed with a gentle sigh. It had been months since Murphy'd last slept in a proper bed, and that had been back in Augusta, with those dreadful people.

But they were gone now, and if he could really trust Connor and Daryl then all those new people here weren't like that at all. He already liked their 'leader', Rick - the cop. And the Korean kid with is girlfriend and her family. They all had been pretty welcoming, maybe the whole thing had been a bit intimidating, but he was doing just fine.

After a moment of just looking around the room he headed for the bathroom to check it out, and just like back in Augusta he was surprised to find out that there really was electricity. The lights worked, which made him smirk a bit. He heard footsteps behind him and knew that Connor was walking up to him.

"Careful. Don't be straining our luck. We're only sapposed t'use it if we really have to" the older MacManus warned in regards to the lights, which made Murphy turn around and look at him. "Hmhm" he just answered and they just looked at each other, both pretty unsure how to handle the situation once again. It was different, because now they had time, because now it was quiet and not so dangerous anymore. They found themselves in a 'civilized' clean world now, much in contrast to all their previous running and fighting.

Because the whole staring at each other for so long was getting a bit awkward Murphy spoke up first and pointed at his brother's clothes.

"Ye should probably get that shit off of ye" he said and meant all the blood and dirt on Connor's jeans and shirt, an unpleasant reminder of what he had done to those strangers just a couple of hours ago. The older twin looked down on himself to get a better look at his shirt, rubbing the crusts with his thumb a bit and then nodding.

"Aye, good idea" he said and then looked out of the window while chewing on his lower lip for a moment.

"'s just…all my shit's still in the old apartment. Gotta get that first" he muttered and then looked at Murphy. "You okay with that?"

Murphy rolled his eyes with an annoyed growl.

"'m no fuckin five anymore, Connor" he reminded him and then walked over to the old cupboard to have a look inside.

"Right" Connor breathed out and then headed for the door.

He placed his hand on the door handle but then stopped for a moment, smiling gently and turning around to look at Murphy once more, who was his usual curious self and needed to put his hands on everything he found. "Murph" the older of the two called out and made his sibling turn around. Connor smiled even more, almost his past beaming smile because he was so incredibly happy to see his twin brother alive and with him. Murphy frowned when his sibling wouldn't say anything after that and just smiled at him for a while.

"What?"

 _I'm so happy you're alive,_ Connor thought but just smirked even more and shook his head.

"Nothin. Just, don't go anywhere, alright? We don't know if all the walls are still up."

"Yeah, yeah" the younger of the two just growled and turned around again to get back to checking out the apartment.  
Since Connor knew that he was annoying his twin with his constant fussing over him he finally left him alone.

* * *

He just stood in front of the door for a while, unsure what to do. Everything was so weird all of a sudden, so different, so complicated. Just like before he suddenly felt sorry, because he knew that Daryl was all alone in there. It was kind of ironic, really. Last year the hunter had been all about getting rid of him, constantly telling him to fuck off and leave him alone.

But a lot had changed between them since then, and it was just very unpleasant and weird to know that all of that had been destroyed from one second to the next. Murphy was between them now. Whether he wanted it to be like that or not. It was impossible for him to choose or make it okay for the both of them.

He wanted to get back to his old self, his old life, meaning the being inseparable with Murphy, the going everywhere with him right by his side. But this wouldn't work with Daryl. Because he knew that the hunter hated his brother, because he knew that his friend wanted to have him all to himself.

Connor sighed and finally knocked on the door, waiting until he could hear footsteps on the other side. It didn't take too long and Daryl would open it, and he looked rather surprised by the visit. Connor nodded as if he was saying 'yeah I know' and then entered the apartment without invitation, having a look around to see if everything was still in place.

Awkward silence filled the room for a while as Connor stood right in the middle of the apartment, hands buried in the pockets of his bloody jeans. Daryl stayed by the door, folding his arms and then leaning against it to just look at his friend with a frown.

"What'd you want?" he muttered after a while and Connor snorted.

"Jesus, come on" he growled and turned around to look at Daryl.

"Don't act all cool 'n distant all of a sudden" he demanded with an angry frown.

Yeah, he understood that Daryl was a bit pissed because of Murphy, but he hated how his friend went back to the whole 'I don't need anyone and you annoy me' attitude from one second to the next. Daryl just frowned as well.

"'scuse me?"

"Yeah, you! Te fuck did you just leave from one second to the next? Everyone was welcoming us back and you went all fucking mop-face and left. I thought we was a fuckin team?"

Daryl snorted and walked away from the door, to get to the bed where he kept his crossbow.

"You ain't got your retarded bro to fuss over or something? 'm busy."

Connor growled and rolled his eyes with a frustrated sigh.

"Just cut that shit out, man. Just cos Murph's back it doesn't mean I don't want us ta be friends anymore, alright?  
Yer fuckin jealousy and bitchy attitude's annoying the fuckin crap outta me.  
Ever since we found Murph ye've been acting like a fuckin girl."

Daryl snorted and grabbed his crossbow to sit down on the bed and start cleaning it.

"Yah wish" he just muttered, because right now he seriously just wanted to be left alone. It had taken him ages to get rid of Carol, who had visited him right away as soon as he had disappeared inside his apartment. He had been happy to see her first, just like he had been happy to see Connor on his doorstep, but for some reason his fucked up brain always went back to this slightly depressed and lonely state, that constant dull ache in his chest because everything about Woodbury reminded him of Merle, that this had been the place where he had found his brother just like Connor had found Murphy, only to lose him again. Just like he was losing Connor now.

The Irishman just snorted and shook his head. There was silence for a moment and Connor just looked at Daryl, who tried to keep himself busy with his crossbow.  
The older of the two friends then sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Where'd you put my shit? I need new clothes" he stated and Daryl kept himself busy with his weapon.

"Where yah left 'em" he answered casually and then blew some air at his crossbow to get rid of some dust. Connor got even more angry because he hadn't expected his visit to be -this- stupid. He just shook his head and walked over to the cupboard, where he had left the couple of shirts and jeans that they hadn't taken with them on their journey to Augusta. As soon as he was done getting his stuff he closed the cupboard and then glared at Daryl, who still wouldn't look at him.

"I wanna go get a couple 'a beers and celebrate with Murph later, ye wanna join us?" he asked, one last offer to make peace with his friend and stop him from moping, but Daryl just shook his head and kept working on his weapon.

"Nope" he simply said.

He would've joined if it had been just Connor who wanted to celebrate.  
But since Murphy would be there as well he didn't exactly fancy watching the whole pathetic brotherly reunion bullshit.  
Connor let out an angry huff and then headed for the door.

"Fine, have fun cryin in yer fuckin corner then" he growled and was ready to open the door, when Daryl suddenly called out.

"Leprechaun" he said and made Connor stop and turn around.

Both men looked at each other for a moment and then Daryl pointed at his friend with his arrow.

"Rick wants t'talk t'yah when you got the time. 's about the walkers."

Connor just looked at his friend, surprise and disappointment soon showing. He had expected Daryl to say something regarding their strained relationship or 'fights', had wanted him to say something to stop him from leaving, but all Daryl had to say was that Rick needed him. He just snorted and shook his head, only to finally open the door.

"Yeah, whatever" he growled and then left, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

Connor returned to their new apartment about half an hour later, because it had taken him way too long to find some alcohol and talk people into giving it to him for free. He was rather good at that, scrounging shit off people, and although they had only given him two bottles he was still more than happy with the result.

He really wanted to celebrate, try to recreate the old times, their old habits and rituals. It also was an apology. Connor had made up his mind, he would try anything to make Murphy as happy and comfortable as he possibly could, because he certainly owed his sibling after everything he had put him through.

Maybe it could come off as trying to buy him, buy his forgiveness but he didn't care, he just wanted to make Murphy happy. When he entered the apartment with the two bottles of alcohol and his fresh clothes in his hands he was actually surprised to see that his sibling was still there. He had expected Murphy to screw his orders, leave the apartment and walk around to battle his excitement and constant nervousness, but Murphy was still there.

Even better. His twin brother was _napping_.

Connor smiled and tried to close the door as quietly as possible, putting the bottles on the table to his right and then walking over to the bed to try and cover Murphy with a blanket. He really wasn't surprised to see his sibling asleep, now that he thought about it, considering what he had been through during the past two days.

Once again the sight of the terrible scar on his twin's forehead made Connor cringe and pull a face. It hurt seeing him like that, it made him feel guilty, but Murphy still looked peaceful in his sleep, so that certainly eased the pain a bit.

Connor even went so far and reached out to gently stroke his sibling's hair, a sign of affection that he had never dared to show with Daryl. Even in his sleep Murphy still flinched a bit, away from the touch, still traumatized from the injury that had been done to his head. Connor bit his lower lip and nodded gently, feeling guilty once again but trying not to feel too upset about it. He grabbed his fresh clothes instead and walked over to the bathroom, so he could take a shower and get all the grime off him like Murphy had requested.

He wouldn't spend too much time under the stream, because despite all the electricity and running water it was actually freezing cold. Connor had to smirk because of that, since it reminded him of their old life back in Boston, when he and Murphy had spent years complaining about how there was never _any fuckin hot water_. But despite the cold he still spent enough time washing all the dirt off him, watching the brownish-reddish liquid disappear down the drain.

Just like the many times before the shower also got his thinking process going. He thought about the countless things he needed to do now, everything he had never paid -too- much attention to because he had not cared before. But Murphy was back now, bringing so many of his character traits back with such a force that his mind was spinning with new ideas and tasks.

First of all - he needed to get Murphy checked by Milton. See if he was right, if he was ill, if he was injured and how his blood was doing after the infection. He then looked down on his own naked body, still noticing how skinny and fucked up he was with all his healing injuries, scars and scratches. He also needed to get a whole lot stronger for Murphy. So he could protect him better. And he needed to make Murphy stronger as well. Teach him all the stuff Daryl had taught him so his brother could survive better in case shit ever went wrong.

Then he needed to make sure this town was secure enough for them to stay here. Secure enough to keep Murphy safe. He probably needed to join a couple of more teams. Clean all the overrun walls and kill all the walkers. He was certain that this was the reason why Rick wanted to talk to him. Because he was pretty much the only one who could handle the situation in man-to-man combat without having to waste too much ammo.

After that he needed to join the supply runs. Get more food for his sibling, for his group. And he needed to ask Daryl to teach him even more about hunting and tracking. So they didn't have to rely on canned food only.

He needed to learn -a lot- to live up to this new old task as his brother's protector. He just couldn't lose him for a second time because of any of his mistakes or failures. Right after visiting Milton with Murphy and talking to Rick on his own he would get started with everything. The training, the learning, the getting stronger and better.

It wasn't like he hadn't cared about that prior Murphy's return. He'd been willing to learn all that before, too. Just not as eagerly. It hadn't been a necessity back then. He even had to admit now that he'd been fine with _Daryl_ doing all that shit before, with Daryl looking after him most of the time and not the other way round. But all of this was over now. He had a new task.

Connor finally turned the cold water off and stepped out of the shower, drying his wet skin with a towel and then looking at himself in the mirror. He stared in the reflexion of his eyes for a good minute, demanding it. _You'll look after him. No matter what. You're not gonna lose him again._ A silent order, a silent promise he was determined to keep.

* * *

"We got ourselves a big problem" Rick stated as he and Connor made their way down the street, heading for one of the walls that separated their part of Woodbury from the other, abandoned part. Connor had a look around their town, the first one after their return. He could see all sorts of familiar faces around him. People who looked pretty worried though, worried and busy. Everyone was carrying weapons and all sorts of tools, a constant reminder that there was still much work to do. The Irishman finally turned his head to look at their leader, who looked just as worried and worked up.

"Lemme guess. Big piles of walkers on every single wall of ours" Connor answered and Rick nodded.

"Yeah. People start to worry about that. Some of them have already tried to leave. It's getting more and more dangerous each day. A couple of days ago one of the busses nearly toppled over. We had to install more support beams, keep all the walls standing" the policeman said and pointed at one of the busses.

Connor finally noticed that they had not just put up extra beams, their town had also actually raised the walls since his and Daryl's departure. Now countless planks and metal cutouts had been added, with a couple of people still working on them and hammering away.

"Shit, that sounds pretty serious" Connor noted and then turned around to take a look at the wall down the road.

"It is" Rick stated and then made his way over to one of the ladders, to get on top of the wall.

Connor followed him after a minute of examining the wall a little closer. Now that he was only a couple of inches away from it he also noticed that it was actually shaking. The groaning and humming of the walkers on the other side of the wall was almost deafening by now, deafening and beyond disturbing. The Irishman climbed up the ladder and nearly fell back down when he saw what was waiting for them on the other side. It was even worse than he would've thought. That wasn't just a group of walkers piling up on their wall - it was an actual herd. Rows upon rows of undead, shoving at each other, reaching out for them, trying to knock over the wall with mad, dead eyes.

"Fuck" Connor gasped in surprise and let the sight of it sink in. Rick nodded.

"Pretty much."

There was a long pause after that as Connor tried to make sense out of what he was seeing.  
It didn't take long and Rick started talking again, worry showing in his voice.

"We tried to stab them at first. With long sticks that reached all the way down there. But we couldn't move the bodies. And soon new ones started to step on the corpses that were already lying there. The more often we stabbed them, the more corpses would pile up. Give them better access to the top of our walls. So we had to stop trying to pick them off. We couldn't risk the pile and create a ramp for them. Not to mention the smell…"

"Aye, yer telling me" Connor answered and buried his face in the crook of his arm because the stench of rotting flesh was really almost unbearable.

"This wall is pretty much lost. We're trying to keep the others clear, but it's getting harder each day because they keep coming. It's like they're going on a pilgrimage to our town, like it's the new Rome. See?" the cop asked and then pointed further ahead, behind the masses of walkers and towards the horizon where they could already see new staggering corpses that were making their way towards them.

"We don't know why they're doing that. If they can smell us. Hear us…if it's some sort of sixth sense, I don't know" Rick muttered and then rubbed the bridge of his nose. "But what I do know is that if they keep coming like that we might get surrounded sooner or later. They could either overrun us or starve us out, whatever they're gonna do, it's nothing good."

Connor sighed and scratched his chin.

"So…you want me t'go down there and pick them off from behind. Ta keep the corpses from piling up…" the Irishman concluded and Rick turned around to look back at Woodbury.

"We're sending out groups of people each day to try and get rid of the travellers before they manage to pile up as well, but yeah. We still need your help with the ones by the walls."

Connor took another look at the massive herd, the big pile of work he would have to do.

"Maybe with Daryl, and now your brother. I assume he's immune, too?"

Connor snorted and turned around as well to look back at Woodbury. He folded his arms and shook his head.

"Daryl's not 'invisible' anymore. And I ain't sending Murph out there. Never. Not in a billion years" he answered and then swallowed.

"Nah, it's alright. Think I can handle that. Maybe fifty each day. Kill them, drag them away, burn them. Should give us clear walls in a couple 'a days."

Rick just looked at the Irishman with a worried frown.

"Are you sure? When I asked to see you to discuss our little problem I didn't exactly mean that you have to do this on your own..:"

"And I said I ain't taking anyone out there with me. Certainly not Daryl. Or me brother. 's too dangerous. I said I can handle it Rick" Connor interrupted their leader and then inspected the undead once more while rubbing his chin.  
  
"Just…let me figure it out and come up with a plan first, aye?"

Rick put both his hands on his hips and looked at his feed.

"If that's what you want…thanks."

Connor smirked and put a hand on the cop's shoulder.

"Don't mention it. That's what we're a group fer after all, aye? Besides, my way t'make up fer letting this whole mess happen in the first place. With our sudden absence and all" the Irishman said and then headed for the ladder to get back down, but Rick called after him once more. Connor froze and turned around to look at their leader, patiently waiting for Rick to go on.

"There's another reason why I wanted to talk to you" the former cop said and slowly approached Connor.  
"Your letter said you were trying to get to Augusta. Milton told me you were looking for a lab there. To find a cure?"

The Irishman frowned a bit, because the mention of this city still made him feel slightly uneasy.

"Aye?" he still answered, curious to know what the man opposite him wanted to know about that.

Rick then raised his arm a bit to point at their town.

"You brought your brother back although he was supposed to be dead. That got me thinking. Have you found something back there? Doctors? Military? A cure?  
Anything that could help us?"

Connor just looked at Rick for a while, unsure what to do or say. He was all about honesty most of the time, but he really didn't like talking about it. Of course they had found something. In fact, they had been _really close_ to a cure, but he wasn't too sure if telling Rick about it was such a good idea. The former cop had changed a lot since he had gotten to know him.

Just about a month ago he had been pretty much willing to hand over Michonne to torture and murder for the sake of stopping a possible war. He knew that Rick hadn't done it in the end, but that still didn't change anything about it. Who was there to say that their leader wouldn't do something like that again? For the sake of keeping this town safe, maybe even for the sake of mankind?

Finding a cure would mean that either he or Murphy would have to die. Murphy certainly wasn't going to die for this. Ever.  
And he wouldn't sacrifice his own life because Murphy needed him. Because he needed to be alive to protect his brother.  
So he decided to do the only thing he could.

Lie.

He shook his head and looked Rick right in the eye, to look convincing.

"No. Nothing. When he arrived in Augusta 't was pretty much a dead end. Thugs everywhere. No military. No lab. Some fella told us about a possible lab somewhere inside University Hospital, but that place was completely overrun. We tried our luck in Savannah, but nothing. All we found was a tiny group of survivors and Murph" he said, figuring that telling the truth but leaving out some details was better than lying.

Rick looked disappointed and Connor felt sorry about that, but that wouldn't change anything about the fact that he was just trying to protect Murphy's and his life.

_Thou shalt not lie._

He heard the words of god, felt the ink of the Veritas tattoo on his finger burning.  
  
Fuck you, he thought and mentally raised his middle finger towards the sky.  
He knew he would have to repent for his sins later, but right now he didn't freaking care.

"But hey, maybe Milty can find something soon" the Irishman added, trying to cheer their leader up a bit.

It was more than obvious that all of his responsibility and all of their current problems with the walkers plus Lori's death was dragging Rick down.  
The Irishman pointed behind himself, at their town.

"D'you…do you mind if I get started with the whole walker business tomorrow? I..kinda promised Murph we'd celebrate his return.  
And I gotta get him checked, see if he's alright and everything…"

Rick nodded and looked in the general direction of their new apartment.

"Sure. Go ahead. Maybe we can all celebrate later tonight. After our town meeting."

Connor nodded and headed for the ladder with a smile on his face.

"Aye. Good idea" he answered and was already on his way down when Rick called his name a final time.  
Just like before the Irishman froze on the spot, already half way down with only his head still above the wall.

"It makes us really happy to see that you got your brother back. After everything you've been through…" the former cop said and then looked down.

"We've been through…" he added and Connor knew what the man meant.

The death of his wife, his best friend, Daryl's brother and all the people they had lost during the past year.

"It's good to see that someone came back from the dead without turning into a flesh-eating, rotten corpse. We all needed that. A miracle. Hope…" Rick said and finally looked at the older MacManus again, who just listened and nodded after a moment.

"Aye" Connor answered, joy and relief washing over him once more. It was like he could almost feel and see all the dark clouds above his head disappear and fade away. There was no more need to be depressed. Murphy was back. Murphy was alive. And Rick was right. Maybe he was the miracle they all needed. Maybe -they- were the miracle their group needed.

 _Destroy all that which is evil, so that which is good may flourish._  
The Saints of South Boston.  
On a mission from god.

The Irishman smiled even more and looked at their leader.

"Don't worry. Everything's gonna be fine, Rick. We're gonna set up a nice 'n safe place fer yer kids. Starting tamorrow."

* * *

Murphy woke up with a start, clearing his throat awkwardly and then turning on his back to rub his eyes with a yawn. He'd been dreaming about some pretty weird stuff. Sheep of all things. That all the walkers weren't undead people, but undead sheep.

The Irishman shook his head with a gentle snort. His brain must have suffered through some seriously fucked up trauma to come up with shit like this. Or maybe Daryl's stupid comment about sheep and Ireland had made him come up with that nonsense. The younger MacManus shifted a bit more and then slowly sat up, still rubbing his eyes and then his forehead.

Just like every single time he woke up he could feel that intense pounding right behind the bone of his forehead, that really bad headache that made it hard to think or even see. The pain automatically reminded him of his brother, Connor. Now that they had started talking to each other again, and now that he was slowly letting his sibling back into his life he felt a bit sorry for that instant association. Headache - Connor. But he just couldn't help it. Connor had been the one to shoot him in the head, to inflict the pain in the first place.

He tried not to be angry but couldn't fight the urge. He cursed and hissed a bit and then searched the room, ready to channel the pain and anger by blaming Connor, but he was surprised to see that he was all alone inside this room.

No Connor. No Daryl.

Although he didn't want to Murphy felt slightly uneasy about it. He was all alone inside an apartment that belonged to a city he didn't know. He didn't know all the people around him. Some of them could be dangerous, just like those people in Boston, and just like back then he felt the immediate urge to flee.

The younger MacManus moved towards the edge of the bed, slowly and carefully, as he tried to adjust to the pressure inside his head and blend it out. For a while he just sat on the bed, head slightly bowed as he opened and closed his eyes rhythmically. He did that a lot when he woke up in pain, to relax the muscles and adjust his sight.

He wondered where Connor was. Or how long he had slept. Connor had told him that he'd gone out to get all his clothes from his old apartment. He didn't have a clue where that was and truth was that he didn't want to know. Realization slowly hit Murphy as he raised his head to look outside the window.

Connor was gone. He was on his own.

_Just don't go anywhere, alright?_

No Connor, no mother hen. No one who could treat him like a fucking five year old.

The pain was slowly fading, and Murphy had to smirk a bit.

Fuck if he stayed here. He was in a new town that was waiting to be explored. And this could be his last chance to do shit on his own without fucking Connor taking away his freedom all the time. Connor, who had told him about dvd players and electricity and people and hot water. He'd be stupid not to take this chance and check everything out.

Murphy got up and staggered and wavered a bit around, just like he always did after waking up. It took his abused brain a bit longer to adjust to new positions, but it wasn't like that would stop him. He staggered towards the door to open it with a determined pull, feeling more and more mischievous because of his great 'escape' plan. But then his day took a downturn.

The door was locked.

Of course.

Why would Connor do anything else but lock him up and keep him from 'danger'.

"Are ye fuckin serious, ye retard" Murphy muttered in disbelief and shook the door a bit more, but it wouldn't give in.

He then let go of it with an annoyed growl and turned around to see what he could find to pick the lock.

One of the many useful things Simmons had taught him. Murphy crossed himself and then looked at the ceiling.

"Sweet Mary'n Jesus, thanks Keith. Yer a fuckin saint" he murmured and then practically turned the whole apartment upside down until finally found the right tools to put his knowledge to use. And the lock was so easy, it was pretty ridiculous, really. But even with all that it was almost like he could hear Simmons yell at him for being ' _so goddamned slow a walker could do that shit faster_ '.

_Good old Keith. May he rest in peace._

"Hallelujah" Murphy cheered with a grin when the door opened with a tiny creak.

Truth be told, he was actually quite curious now. What all the fuss was about, why Connor would drag him all the way up here instead of staying in Savannah, and then lock him up on top of that. So he grabbed all of his few belongings and made his way downstairs with an excited smirk on his face.

* * *

_Fine. Have fun cryin in yer corner then._

Connor had slammed the door shut a pretty long while ago, but those words were still ringing in his ears. Daryl had put the crossbow away by now and lay on his bed, both his arms tugged underneath his head as he stared at the ceiling.

Although he could hear people talking outside he still noticed the eerie silence around him. It was _too_ quiet. There was no guy with an terrible accent who couldn't keep his trap shut. He was all by himself, in this room. The hunter turned his head a bit and let his gaze wander. It was still the same room, everything was still in the same place but there were things missing. Connor had taken all of his stuff. 'Moved out'.

Daryl snorted and shook his head at the absurdity of it all. They weren't a freaking couple.  
He couldn't care less if the Irish freak moved out and stopped sharing every single room, tent or car with him.  
Months of this bullshit. Months of arguing about that.

 _"So what, we gotta share rooms again?"_  
"Looks like it. Town's not exactly that big. And I ain't really interested in having anyone sleep alone here any time soon.  
 _Not with all these shady fucks out there."_  
 _"Yah gonna take the couch. End of discussion."_

_"I can't fucking sleep in this cell. I didn't break out of te Hoag fer nothing."_   
_"What the fuck. Yah ain't sleeping here."_   
_"Fuck you! And I said I ain't sleeping in a cell."_   
_"If yer ass ain't back in yer cell by tomorrow morning when everybody gets up then I swear 'm gonna shove yah down these stairs so you break your neck"_

_"So what about ye? Top? Bottom?"_   
_"I ain't sleeping in no cell. Especially not with you. I ain't no fag"_

_" You want me ta get our stuff? We moving in as well?"  
"Guess so. But yah get yer stupid ass away from me. _ _There's enough rooms in there."_

_"Why don't yah just fuck off already? It's not like yah care about that girl and if you believe she ain't alive anyway yah might as well just leave me the fuck be!"  
"Yer right, I don't think that girl's still alive, but I care about ye. Can't have you wandering around in the woods alone."_

_"Connor, you stay with Daryl."_   
_"What? No freakin way! Ain't gonna let this nutjob anywhere near me."_   
_"We can't have him sleep outside."_   
_"Why would I care, he can sleep in the RV on the floor."_   
_"We can't have three people in the RV when you've got a big tent for yourself."_   
_"There's no way he's gonna get his stupid ass in my tent."_

He finally had what he wanted.  
He couldn't care less if the Irish freak moved out.

No.

He _shouldn't_ care. But he did. A lot.

He'd thought that after months of trying to shove Connor away and get some space between them he would welcome it. To have his own place, his own tent, cell, bed or whatever was there. He'd thought it would be good that he didn't have to share anything with anyone anymore. That no one was there to annoy the crap out of him with all his stupid talk, with all his stupid demands and all his cheesy trying to cheer him up after Merle's death.

But now that Connor was finally listening to his one year of pushing away he had to realize that the opposite was true.  
He didn't welcome it. It wasn't good at all. There was too much space, too much silence, too much…

Loneliness. He was lonely without Connor.

Daryl frowned angrily and then turned around with a growl to face the wall, not the door. No more hoping for it to open up and reveal the Irishman. He wasn't a freaking teenager, he wasn't a freaking girl. He was Daryl Dixon, and he certainly had balls and yes, they were still attached. They weren't a freaking couple. So Connor moving out was actually a good thing. Everything else had been too weird, too close for two people who were just friends like them.

There he had it. Everything he'd wanted ever since the farm. Peace. Silence. No more feelings bullshit. No more acting like a freaking girl.  
Damn right. Fucking Connor had moved out. Given him more space. Fuck yeah.

Fucking Connor had moved out.  
Moved out. Left him alone. In this room that was too fucking big.

"Fuck" Daryl cursed and turned on his back abruptly, only to wince because his broken rip hurt.  
He still lifted up his arm a bit so he could force it back down and hit the mattress hard.

The guy didn't get to just leave like that. On his own. Make the decision himself. Just like he hadn't been allowed to kill himself, die from the infection, leave the prison or get himself murdered by some freaky lab rats in Augusta.

 _He_ was the one calling the shots in their 'relationship'. He wasn't the girl. Freaking Connor was with all his whiny crying bullshit for the past couple of months. And _he_ certainly wouldn't lose the guy to another freaking leprechaun, to this annoying little _shit_ who had forced himself into their business like that. Connor didn't _get_ to leave whenever he wanted. And Murphy didn't deserve to get his brother back after all the shit he'd put him through.

Daryl sat up with an angry look on his face and prepared himself to go back outside.  
He'd made up his mind. He wasn't going to back off after everything.

So these two wanted to celebrate Murphy's ' _miraculous'_ return. And Connor wanted him there.  
So damn right he was going to pay them a visit and let them know that no one put him in a freaking corner after using him as a lookalike puppet for a year.

 _I know he's gone. But you look like him. Just let me keep pretending yer Murphy._ _Please_.

Connor had used him for more than a year. And now that he had Murphy back, the fucker really thought he could just move out like that.  
He remembered what Merle had told him last year, when he'd been about to bite the dust after falling off that horse.

_One of these days, they're going to scrape you off their heels like you was dog shit._

There was no way he was gonna let that happen. He was going to make that asshole understand that he owed him some _respect_.

* * *

Connor was walking down main street, completely lost in thoughts over his possible plan on how he could possibly get rid of all the walkers outside. He even came up with all sorts of things and imagined one scenario where he would take some rope , let himself down with it and start slaying all the walkers from up top. Swaying around like some cool cowboy. Oh the images. They made him grin. But that soon vanished again.

Maybe he was a bit pissed at Rick by now, because it had dawned on him that this was just another one of Rick's countless attempts to use his immunity for his purposes. Like back inside the prison, during their 'war' or whatever. He understood why their leader was doing it, because he happened to pretty much be the only one who could do this sort of work, but that still didn't mean that he liked it. Liked being used. But still. This town needed his help. And he needed this town to keep Murphy safe.

Just thinking about Murphy put that slight smile back on Connor's face and made him look up. He wondered how his twin was doing right now. If he was still asleep or awake by now. Connor figured that maybe he needed to visit Milton first, to make sure he was available. In case Murphy was already awake and ready to get checked. The older MacManus was trying to figure out whether he should tell Milton about Augusta when someone suddenly grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him to the right, away from the street, into an alley between two houses.

"Jesus!" the Irishman exclaimed and instinctively reached for his knife but didn't get to do so, because right then a hand grabbed his wrist and slammed it against the wall behind him, scraping his knuckles and making him curse once more. "Ah, fuck!" he hissed and then glared at his attacker in surprise, only to relax when he saw that it was Daryl. For a moment both men just looked at each other, both angry and Connor confused on top of that.

"The fuck's wrong with ye?" the Irishman complained and then struggled long enough to free himself a bit. Daryl continued to glare at him.

"Just wanted t'make myself clear. _You_ …" he said and buried his finger hard in Connor's shoulder, right where the healed bite wound was that caused the Irishman to wince. "…ain't putting me in no corner like that, yah hear me" the hunter said and was actually surprised how soon his anger had vanished.

He'd pictured the whole speech and talk to be far more aggressive, to be a real tough statement. But now that he was right here and it was happening he actually didn't have a real clue or plan on what the heck he was even supposed to say or do to make Connor understand that he sure as hell wouldn't let Murphy replace him like that from one second to the next.

Of course he knew what he _could_ say, but those words would never ever leave his lips under any circumstances, because they were way too pathetic and would make Merle turn in his grave.

_Get your shit back in my apartment. Move back in. Stay with me, not this little shit. Fuck Murphy, I need you more._

Connor frowned angrily and rubbed his abused knuckles.

"Te fuck are ye talking 'bout?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at him and shoved him a bit.

"Yah know exactly what 'm talking 'bout. As soon as we found the freaking kid you scraped me off yah heels like dog shit. Grabbing your shit, moving out, turning yah back on me and pretending I don't freakin exist nomore just cos you got your bro back and don't need no substitute anymore. I ain't having that."

The older of the two friends snorted and shook his head in disbelief.

"Dude, yer the one who went all sissy on me from one sec to the next. Yer the one who keeps telling me ta fuck off. So don't act all surprised when I decide ta do just that. Make up yer mind fer once, will ye" Connor muttered and then tried to walk away, because he had more important things to do right now and didn't exactly fancy another one of their scuffles.

But Daryl wouldn't let him leave. He stepped in his way and shoved Connor back once more, against the wall, eyes glued on him with an unreadable expression on his face. The hunter really wanted to say what was on his mind, what he really wanted, but his pride wouldn't let him do it. And now that he thought about it, he was actually pissed at Connor.

Back in the old days it had been so easy for the Irishman to read him. To understand all the pushing away, all the words he chose that said 'leave' but meant 'stay'. But now that Murphy was back Connor didn't seem to be able to read him like that, or maybe he just didn't care anymore.

His friend had no more reason to cling to him despite all the pushing, and that just made Daryl so frustrated and angry. He didn't have a clue how to solve this problem, how to act all different and show appreciation in an other way to keep Connor with him. So he did the same things as ever. He was surprised when the Irishman just smirked at him.

"Aw, look at her. She's all jealous, 'n wants ta keep me to herself. Admit it Darylena, you got a serious crush on me and don't wanna share now, do ye."

"Shut up" Daryl growled. If it weren't for all of his mixed emotions he probably would've punched the Irishman by now. But he was too caught up with all the trying to figure out which feeling was more dominant right now.

The anger and pain over the name 'Darylena', that had once been Merle's and his father's trademark, or the embarrassment because he knew what Connor was aiming at, all the ambiguous things -he- had initiated until now, like yesterday or back in Augusta. Then he was also relieved because his friend was obviously still himself around him, the joking, the teasing, the typical bullshit talk he'd pulled through during the past couple of months.

In the end he settled on the latter and relaxed a tiny bit, but he wouldn't step away and kept Connor trapped with him, to keep him from going back to Murphy just for a minute longer. And once again he could feel that fucked up tension between them, that sick need to have a fight but smash their faces together at the same time, building up more and more with each second that Connor would give him that stupid, annoying and cocky grin of his.

But Daryl decided not to do anything about it, not to fight or do other things, because they were right in the open with all their friends around them.

"You wish" he just grunted and wasn't so rough anymore, which made Connor smirk even more.

"Relax, fella, alright" the Irishman said in a calming manner and even grabbed Daryl's muscular and dirty upper arm to brush his thumb across it, not only to signalize that he wanted the hunter to give him some space to breathe, but also to show affection.

"How many fuckin times do I have t'tell ye. I ain't going anywhere. In fact, I actually need t'talk ta you anyway" he muttered and let go.

Daryl did the same about a second later, picking up on Connor's silent request, but he was rather reluctant about it.

"'bout what?"

"Training" Connor answered, folded his arms and then leaned against the wall behind him.

Daryl frowned and stayed right where he was.

"Training?"

Connor nodded and turned his head a bit to look back at main street, craning his neck and exposing the muscles, tendons and tattoo there.

"Aye. I want ye ta teach me a lot more stuff. About hunting. About tracking..outdoor survival and all that shit. Til I can do everything on my own. I gotta get better at that. Better and stronger" he muttered and rubbed his neck a bit. Daryl just watched him for a moment and then snorted.

"Let me guess. Yah plan on going full-on uber-big bro" the hunter observed and Connor just shrugged.

"Well, can't do any harm, can it."

Daryl shook his head and looked away as well.

"Jesus."

"Oh go fuck yerself. What'd you know 'bout looking after people that fuckin matter t'ye" Connor answered and looked pissed from one second to the next.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at his friend and huffed in protest.

"Uhm… a lot? Yah ass wouldn't be standin here otherwise."

Connor raised an eyebrow at that remark and then smirked a bit when he understood the meaning of that statement. Daryl froze for a second and wanted to mentally slap himself for letting that slip, and to keep Connor from saying something to that he just kept talking.

"How 'bout _you_ get your head straight, chicken. The shit you doing? Slaughtering people and treating the kid like five year old when he's your age? Locking him up like a grounded cry baby? And now you wanna become some sorta Hulk/Chuck Norris for 'im? That ain't lookin after people. That's being a goddamned psycho 'bout it. Nothing more."

"No, that's called taking care of yer goddamn family. And 's been my job pretty much all my fuckin life. I just had a break from all that fer about a year."

Daryl snorted.

"Yah wanna look after your family when you can't even watch yer own ass."

"Why'd you think 'm asking ye ta help me, man?" Connor spat and then took a deep breath and looked down at his feet.

He tried to calm himself down and be his usual relaxed self again.

"You in or not?"

Daryl chewed on his lower lip for a while and just looked at Connor. He then let out a gentle sigh and looked away, still contemplating the question and chewing on his lip until it almost bled. When he finally looked at Connor again and saw the look on his face it wasn't like he had a choice anyway. He rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Fine."

Connor smirked and nudged his friend's shoulder.

"Fuckin A. Told ye. We're a fuckin team."

Daryl tried to dodge the gentle blow and tried not to smirk.

"But _he_ ain't coming" he warned his friend then and Connor stopped grinning for a moment. He then nodded and raised an eyebrow.

"Are ye crazy? Of course he ain't coming. That wouldn't be training, it'd be a fuckin massacre with the two of you. All we'd get outta this would be a whole bunch of bruises on both of ye, but not a single skill on me."

"Not like yah got any of those anyway" Daryl retorted and Connor chuckled.

"Fuck you."

Daryl finally smirked as well and then turned around to leave, but just when he had his back turned on Connor the Irishman suddenly asked him to wait. The hunter turned around, curious about what his friend wanted to talk about but already suspecting that Connor wanted to ask him about the 'party' tonight. He was quite shocked to find out that this wasn't the case at all.

"Got another reason why I wanted t'talk ta you, actually."

Daryl just stayed right where he was and waited for his friend to go on.

"'Bout yesterday…"

The hunter tensed even more, feeling more and more uneasy about the whole topic.

"Yesterday?"

Connor nodded and shifted just as awkwardly. Since the topic made them both feel pretty uneasy he searched his jeans for some cigarettes and was actually relieved that he still had some, although there weren't many left. On top of all the walker business and Woodbury shifts he would also have to go out and get new ones sooner or later, now that they were three smokers by now. But he kept them to himself for now, lighting one and taking a long drag on it to calm himself down.

He was quite surprised that he felt so awkward about it himself, because most of the time he was actually pretty much relaxed when it came down to this, the talking about intimate encounters and all. Most of the time he'd even been bragging about it, but this was different. This was unpleasant.

"Aye. Last night, back at the camp" he muttered and hoped that Daryl would finally pick up on what the hell he was talking about, because he sure as hell wasn't going to name it. Judging by the way his friend suddenly reacted he knew that he got the message. Because the hunter shifted just awkwardly and looked at his feet with clenched fists.

"Ain't nothin t'talk about" he growled and tried to walk away, because this was beyond awkward. He'd really appreciated their talk until now, how Connor had pretended that nothing had happened and that they were still in nothing but a relaxed and established friendship, but of course, the Irish freak had to fuck that up now and make everything embarrassing for the both of them.

"Well, I think there fuckin is" Connor insisted, a bit less awkward but a lot angrier and pissed this time. "How 'bout we stop that childish ping-pong fer once and handle it like fuckin grown-arse adult men. There's obviously shit we gotta talk about. I thought everything'd been said before all this, but the shit yesterday...Well. Kinda put everything in an other light again, didn't it then."

Daryl just snorted.

"Yah really wanna handle _this_ kinda topic like _men_. Sorry, but those two things kinda don't go well together, leprechaun."

Connor rolled his eyes and tried really hard to stay calm, but just like the many times before Daryl's stubbornness just drove him nuts.

"Alright. I get that yer fuckin butthurt over the whole business, but stop talking down on me like that, alright? I mean, I get it. This is some tough, embarrassing shit fer the both of us. Not just fer you. But let's be honest here. Yer the one who pretty much started the whole thing, and I think ye owe me an…"

" _I_ started this shit?" Daryl interrupted his friend and looked at him in disbelief.

"Newsflash. _You_ did that" he reminded Connor and pointed at him with an angry frown.

"Oh, fuck ye. So maybe I did it fuckin once. But you've been the one doing shit ever since, alright?! That shit last night, that was you, not fuckin me" Connor shouted, louder this time, which made Daryl turn around and check on their surroundings, to make sure no one could hear them talk.

"Shhhh!" he even hissed angrily, to stop the Irishman from making it worse.

"Shhhhh yerself, asshole. Grow some fuckin balls" Connor retorted and shook his head with an angry frown. He headed for main street because he was done with the whole topic and knew that trying to talk to Daryl about shit like that was useless anyway. And truth be told, he didn't know what he wanted to talk about anyway. He'd just been curious, what he was supposed to make out of it and how they were going to handle that topic in the future but of course, Daryl had to be a freaking child there. Just like always.

So Connor took a drag on his smoke and walked down the alley to get back out in the open, back to the others and Murphy.

"You're the only real _good_ friend I have, alright?" Daryl suddenly spoke up and made Connor stop once again.

He wouldn't turn around and just listened for a moment, giving Daryl some privacy to keep talking because he knew that this was some pretty intimate information right now. Stuff that the hunter usually couldn't really express. "Ever had, actually" the younger of the two added, and just like back in his apartment he could feel it again.

That sadness, that loneliness, bubbling up inside of him. He knew that he still had people like Rick and Carol, but that just wasn't the same. He couldn't be with them like he was with Connor.

"And I guess I…."

He snorted gently and then looked away because this was still more than awkward.

"I just don't wanna lose yah over shit like that. Or because of your goddamn bro" he admitted and Connor finally turned around to look at him.

"'m just tired of losin people" Daryl went on and looked at the Irishman for a moment, only to look back at his feet with a quiet sigh.

Connor took a deep breath and then rubbed his forehead, sighing as well and then shaking his head. He knew that his friend had that constant fear of getting abandoned by people who were close to him, but actually _hearing_ him say it and admit it was something new. He also knew that this wasn't just about Daryl's past, or him or Murphy. It was still about Merle. And just like the many times before he felt guilty. That he was the one living the 'perfect' life with his brother from now on, the life Daryl could never have.

"Jesus, Daryl" he muttered.

"I fuckin know that, ye idiot. Ye don't have t'tell me. But I think you don't get some important things here."

The hunter looked up with a confused frown.

"Like what?" he asked when Connor wouldn't speak up right away.

The Irishman obviously had a hard time putting it in words, but then he finally did with an angry look on his face.

"'s not shit like that that fucks up our friendship. We're buddies no matter fuckin what, alright? With Murph, without Murph. I've changed a lot during the past year. I ain't the man I was a year ago. Ye've seen it. No matter how shitty it is. Murphy and I ain't -that- close anymore. And 's gonna take years til we get there again. And even without all that shit. Before the outbreak or whatever. I had friends back then, too. Ye know? Did I ever tell ye 'bout Rocco? Romeo?"

Daryl just shrugged and looked away.

"Nope. Not really."

"Maybe ye got the wrong impression cos of all my talk. My life ain't all about Murphy. Sure, maybe I'm a little fucked up in that regard. A little too obsessed, a little too possessive and 'psycho' as ye call it. But that shit doesn't change anything about the fact that I still got enough space for other shit in my life."

The hunter just snorted, not really believing the whole talk. He'd seen Connor. Heard him talk for the past year. It had been all about Murphy. All the time.

"Don't even ask how many hours I spent on watchin stupid fuckin movies. Partially on me own cos Murph fuckin hated most of 'em" the older of the two went on.

Although he didn't want to Daryl still had to snort.

"No wonder yah got so many retarded ideas 'n plans" he muttered and Connor chuckled.

"Right?"

Both men gave in to a little gentle laugh because the Irishman's obsession with movies really was too stupid to think about it. But then Connor got serious again.

"But really, man" he muttered and made Daryl look at him once again. "If yer so tired of losing people then maybe ye should stop pushing them away. Especially fuckin me. Stop bein so fuckin scared of that shit. Cos just like I told ye. Murphy might be back, but nothing's changed between us. Alright?"

Daryl snorted bitterly and looked away. He suddenly felt disgusted by himself once more.

"'Course it has" he retorted in regards to what he had done back inside the tent yesterday.

"So maybe it fuckin has" Connor said with another eyeroll.

"Jesus, stop being such a baby about it, man. Ye really got yer panties in a tight fuckin bunch, don't ye?"

The Irishman just earned an angry stare for that.

"We've been through lotsa tough shit. A whole bunch of deaths, our farm and prison got overrun, I got bit, you lost your bro, you nearly died, I nearly got killed, so really" Connor just went on and wouldn't give in.

"Nothing we can't handle, alright?"

Silence. Daryl just looked away and chewed on his lower lip, fists clenching, anger and frustration building up once more.

"Alright?" Connor insisted and the hunter let out a gentle sigh.

"I got it the first time" he growled and shook his head.

Connor just smirked at him and then nudged his shoulder.

"Good. Party. Tonight. Rick said we'd all celebrate after another one of them meetings. And yer coming, too. Time t'get yer panties outta that bunch of yers" he said and they both headed for main street once more, only to freeze on the spot when Connor ran right into someone.

The man stumbled a bit and nearly lost his balance, but Connor was faster and managed to catch him, only to widen his eyes in surprise.

"Murph?" he asked and stared at his brother with wide eyes, shocked because his sibling was outside, on his own, and most importantly, so freaking close to the spot he and Daryl had used to talk.

* * *

**a couple of minutes earlier:**

Murphy couldn't fight the slight smirk anymore as he made his way down main street to check out Woodbury. Connor and Daryl had really told him the truth, and that just made him happy somehow. He could see the walls on both ends of this street, walls that kept the undead, decay and death outside.

Woodbury was such a nice place compared to everything he had seen during the past year. It wasn't like the quarantine zone back in Boston, and it certainly wasn't like Augusta or Savannah. First of all, this was a small town. No skyscrapers, not too much space to lose track of everything. And to top it all: All the streets were clean. All the houses were clean. There was no blood, no rotting corpses, no death.

He could even see some kids that were running around. He remembered the baby that belonged to Connor's group and saw all the flowers down the aisle between the two lanes of main street. And the best part about it- there really was some electricity and running water. Water bottles were being passed around everywhere. He could see some of the men sit on the benches and enjoy their break from work with something to eat in their hands.

Woodbury was civilized. Woodbury was a shiny world, a small sanctuary. And he was right in it. He could even see some shops and one bar to his left and right, although he wasn't too sure if those were still in operation. No matter if they were, at least they were there. As memorial, something that could show him how the world had been before all this, a world that he couldn't really remember.

For a while he just walked up and down the street, careful not to cross paths with either Connor or Daryl. He didn't exactly want to get locked up again. In this tiny apartment, away from all of those pretty and shiny things. It was pretty hard now to try and stay mad at his brother for 'kidnapping' him and taking him away from Savannah. Because if he was honest - Woodbury was about a trillion times better than having to sleep in a stinking underground morgue. Although he had to admit that he kind of worried about all those people back there. They were old and sick. And he'd just left them there. Vernon. Brie. Joyce.

He scratched the back of his ear and chewed on his lip.

Maybe he could convince Connor to go back. Not to flee and stay in Savannah, but to go back and take those people back here, to take them in and let them live a life in peace, far away from Crawford.

Hm.

Now that he thought about it. Maybe it was a good idea to actually go and find Connor, rather than run away from him. Not just to talk to him about the Savannah thing, but also to ask him about many other things. Their past, the things he couldn't remember, how he had found this group of people, this town, and most importantly…. The younger MacManus stopped smiling then and felt a bit upset.

Ask him if Daryl had told him the truth about the whole hanging business.

But he figured that they needed to do this in private, and now that he was awake and they were surrounded by walls and people that were still alive, he was pretty confident that they would get the chance to talk about it very soon. So many things to do, so many things to talk about. Murphy was brimming with anticipation and joy. It truly felt like he was back from the dead.

He looked around for a pretty long while but had a hard time finding his brother because he didn't know who he was supposed to ask or what the whole layout of the town was about anyway. He didn't know if there was some sort of town hall, or security or god knows what kind of thing and who he could possibly ask, and when he was pretty much about to give up he finally found him.

Connor.

He was walking down the pedestrian path on the other side of the street, head bowed a bit because he was obviously lost in thoughts. Just like the couple of times before Murphy suddenly felt the urge to go after his twin, follow him, to be reunited with him and close the distance between them. It was really weird, now that he thought about it. Like they were two opposed particles. Connor was the positive pole, and he the negative one. Dragging each other closer and closer.

He wanted to call out but refrained from doing so, because he didn't want to be too obvious about it and because he didn't want others to watch them. So instead of calling his brother's name Murphy just started jogging, across the street, towards Connor with a tiny, happy smile on his face. He didn't get the chance to reach him or talk to him, because right then someone pulled his sibling between two houses, into an alley, out of the sunlight.

"Hey!" Murphy protested and jogged a bit faster, curious and maybe a bit afraid because he didn't want to let Connor get hurt. It didn't take too long and he reached the corner of one of the houses. As soon as he heard the voices he couldn't fight the annoyed eyeroll though, because he recognized the voice of the 'attacker'.

Daryl.

That stupid redneck.

Murphy figured that it was none of his business, but still. He was rather curious what was up with that asshole. Why Connor would be friends with someone like him, out of all people. Apart from his face of course. The younger MacManus was still mad at the hunter because of that. Stealing his face and everything.

_Asshole._

Murphy leaned against the wall of the house and tried not to be too conspicuous, but he was just too curious. He listened up and tried to hear what they were talking about. It was then when he picked up on their conversation, even worse, the constant scuffling noises that escaped the alley. The younger MacManus even went so far to sneak a peek, and he really didn't like what he saw.

Daryl, that redneck asshole, was pretty much manhandling Connor. And what was the worst about the whole thing - his brother let him. Before any of them could turn around and look at him Murphy would already stop peeking, but the sight wouldn't leave his brain. It was slowly dawning on him, where Connor might have gotten all those freaking bruises from. Not just from fights or all the encounters with the undead.

Murphy clenched his fists and felt his blood boil with anger, but he was actually surprised that he could keep his temper for once. He needed to listen to their conversation. Needed to understand why Daryl was between them, why he wouldn't back off and acted like he deserved to stay with Connor even now. He could punch the guy he all he wanted later.

He certainly didn't like what he heard next.

He could hear and pick up on everything. How close his brother and this freak really were, how well they seemed to know each other, how they were talking about him and most importantly - each other.

Murphy tried really hard not to take it that way, but some of it almost sounded like… He shook his head with an angry frown but regretted it when he got pain as a response. No. First he was dreaming about walker sheep and now he was imagining shit like that. He didn't know much about Connor after his memory loss, but he was -pretty- sure his brother wouldn't do shit like that. Do shit with some dirty, disgusting redneck asshole.

It was a sin. They were obviously both very religious. He was sure that he and Connor had been raised by a very religious family. Connor knew the bible. Just like he did. Even after that shot.

But some of it….He heard them mention 'last night'. Multiple times. Like a code word. But this was weird. He'd been there the whole time. He would've picked up on that. He didn't get to ponder on that for too long, because then he could already hear them. The conversation was obviously finished. Connor and Daryl were just about to exit the alley. And if he stayed here like that, they would instantly know that he'd eavesdropped.

_Oh shit. He needed to get away._

Murphy tried really hard to get away in time, as fast as possible, but then the inevitable happened.  
He ran right into Connor. He didn't even need to see him, he could smell it, feel it.  
This was Connor, without a doubt.

"Fuck" he muttered and tried to stumble away, but his sibling had already seen him.

"Murph?"


	2. Examination

"Murph? What te fuck are ye doing here?" Connor asked in disbelief as both he and Daryl stared at his sibling. Both men continued to look at Murphy like that for a while - eyes widened in surprise, faces pale, fists clenched and lips pressed shut. They didn't even need to talk about it. Connor and Daryl were thinking the same thing. _How much had he heard? How many details had they actually spilled?_ No one really knew how to break the awkward silence, but then Connor's brother instincts were already far more present than the embarrassment.

"I told you not ta fuckin go anywhere!" the older of the two MacManus twins hissed and approached his sibling, who was still trying to come up with something to say. He couldn't really admit that he had picked the lock and screwed Connor's 'orders', and neither could he really talk about what he'd just heard a minute ago. Not with Daryl around, who was glaring at him like he was one of the walkers or something.

"We don't know shit 'bout the walls and if they're gonna hold. 's too dangerous out here, the busses could give in and all of those filthy fucks could get in here, there could be chaos 'n shit!" Connor went on and tried to grab Murphy, but just like all the times before the younger MacManus flinched away and gave his other half an angry glare.

"Oh fuck ye, and locking me up like a fuckin monkey in a zoo's gonna make shit so much better? I was fuckin bored up there and wanted t'check out this place. Yer the one who dragged me here after all" he snapped back, already losing his temper again and finally knowing how to talk.

"Haven't you seen what's going on outside those walls? Don't you fuckin remember what happened last time we was so close t'so many walkers? Huh?"

"As a matter of fact: No, I don't remember ye fuckin retard, and guess whose fuckin fault that is!" Murphy yelled and Connor fell quiet.

Once again there was nothing but silence as both MacManus twins glared at each other and Daryl just stood beside Connor, giving Murphy a hateful glare and then fixing his eyes on his friend. There seemed to be some sort of emotional turmoil going on inside Connor, because he looked both incredibly furious but also hurt by these words. Murphy seemed to have just as many mixed emotions, because he was just as furious, stubborn but also seemed to regret his choice of words.

And since Daryl knew that this was none of his business right now and he was having a hard time fighting his inner urge to punch the younger MacManus in his face for that remark, the hunter decided to leave the two of them to it. He knew that as soon as Murphy was in the picture he was practically invisible to Connor anyway, so he started to walk away.

"I'll be going then. See yah later" he muttered and gently nudged the blonde MacManus, somehow still turning it into a short and lazy stroke down the Irishman's upper arm. He then turned around and decided to walk across the street to get to Carol and little asskicker, who he could see over there.

"Daryl wait we're not…" Connor tried to call after his friend but the hunter just kept walking, back turned on the Irishmen as he left them to their fight. The older of the two MacManus twins let out a frustrated sigh and then looked down to rub the bridge of his nose. He had a hard time trying to stay calm. Part of him wanted to kick his brother's sorry ass all the way back up to their apartment.

He was angry with him for just leaving their new home like that without telling him, he was angry with him for blaming him again, and he was also angry with him for making Daryl leave again, with that look on his face, just when they had been pretty much on good terms, despite Murphy being there. But now Daryl obviously felt angry and jealous yet again, his hatred for Murphy had been more than obvious, and Connor really hated that his brother and friend just couldn't get along and give him a break. He hated that it was always either Daryl or Murphy, never the two of them, with the both of them constantly getting on his nerves.

"Fuck" the Irishman muttered.

It took him a good minute to calm down a bit.

"You got a smoke?" Murphy asked quietly, after a while, now no longer sounding angry but a bit apologetic.

Connor searched his jeans and found the old smashed box of cigarettes. He took a look inside only to discover that there were only three cigarettes left. Not much, considering that some party was supposed to take place later today, but he figured that he couldn't exactly keep them all to himself. He was back to being a brother again.

Even worse. A twin brother in the apocalypse. There was no space for selfishness anymore. He took two smokes and put them in his mouth to light them, still looking down and not really facing Murphy. The older of the two twins took a short drag on both cigarettes and handed one over, only to finally start walking.

Murphy followed him without causing any sort of drama, which certainly was a good thing. For a while they just walked next to each other, smoking cigarettes in silence as Connor led his brother to Dr. Stevens and Milton's place without actually telling him about his plans. His sibling seemed to be rather curious but wouldn't really say anything, but it was still more than obvious. Connor was actually happy about the fact that Murphy still seemed to show all his typical mannerisms.

The kid was so terribly bad at hiding his curiosity or feelings in general, he never even seemed to try in fact. Murphy'd always worn his heart on his sleeve. Laughing out loud when he was happy, smirking like the devil when he'd done something mischievous, kicking, boxing and yelling when he was angry, or sobbing and crying (even wailing louder than church bells as a kid) when he was upset.

Curious Murphy would fiddle about with his hands, kick at stones and play with the cigarette in his mouth. Connor just let him do that for a while although he knew that his brother was actually waiting for him to talk first. But Connor didn't feel like talking, if he was honest he even had to admit that he felt like shit. All the constant back and forth, back and forth with Murphy and Daryl was dragging him down.

He really wanted to please the both of them. Straighten his relationship with Murphy and go back to being twin brothers without his sibling constantly blaming him and yelling at him. And he wanted to keep his relationship with Daryl as intense as it was, he didn't want the hunter to keep pulling away from him.

The new situation was supposed to be nice. They had food, shelter and protection. He had his family and a best friend. Or maybe even more or whatever the fuck was going on between him and Daryl. But it wasn't all pancakes and parties and family stories. When he was with Daryl he was thinking about Murphy, wanted to be with him. And when he was with Murphy he was thinking about Daryl and wanted to be with him. That shit was giving him a headache and stressed him out so much that even the smoking cigarette in his hand wouldn't help.

"Don' be fuckin mad" Murphy muttered quietly and finally broke the silence first.

It had always been like that. Connor was usually the one in charge. The one with the plans, the one who spoke first and said what should be done. He was usually the one giving directions, their brain and reason. But sometimes even he couldn't do that all the time, and whenever he reached the point where he just couldn't be in charge or lead anything Murphy would take that position and be the responsible one.

Because really. It wasn't like Murphy couldn't do all that. He could be in charge. He probably even was the better leader of the two. He simply didn't like to do it and usually declined. But this was one of the rare moments where he simply had to take responsibility, so he took it.

"I was just..bored up there. And I wanted t'talk ta you."

Connor snorted and looked up to face his sibling with a slight smirk.

"Wow, that's some news" he muttered and took another drag on his cigarette.

"Thought you hated me and all cos I'm the one who 'kidnapped' you and made ye lose yer memory and all that."

Murphy let out a frustrated sigh and looked away, Daryl's words ringing in his ears once more.

_You got any idea what your bro's been through during the past year? You told 'im t'do it! Yah asked him t'blow your head off.  
He told me yah forced him into this shit by making him promise._

"Shut up, I don't hate ye" Murphy muttered and scratched his upper lip awkwardly.

Silence.

Murphy would look at Connor from time to time, patiently waiting for his brother to say something. But his twin stayed quiet and seemed to be lost in thoughts, like something was dragging him down. "Con?" he tried, irritated by the lack of attention. He was already used to Connor beaming at him with joy all the time. The man next to him shook his head and cleared his throat, as if to get his mind off things and finally concentrate on his sibling.

"Aye? What'd you wanna talk about?" he asked and took another drag on his cigarette.

Murphy pouted as he contemplated this question. Simply because there were so many things he wanted to talk about.

Their past, his memory loss, Boston, what Connor had been up to during the past year, if Daryl had been right, what he and Daryl had been up to in that alley, this town, this new group, his old group, Savannah…

He settled on the more 'pleasant' thing first, because all the other topics were rather awkward and complicated.

"Back in Savannah…some group saved me fram those Augusta soldiers. They took me in, gave me food, gave me shelter and never really asked any questions. They were really nice people. Old people and…" he scratched the back of his head and chewed on his lip. "Well, I kinda just ran away and left 'em without another word. And we got this nice place here with walls, houses and great protection. And they're living down in the sewers, _in a morgue_. They got no muscle, hardly any weapons and food. I just thought that maybe we could….go back and like, take them with us and stuff. Take them here?"

"No."

Murphy turned his head to look at his brother in surprise.

"Wha?"

"I said no, Murph."

The younger of the two men just looked at his sibling in disbelief. He didn't know much about them but knew enough that this was pretty much out of character for the both of them. Keith and the soldiers back at the quarantine zone in Boston had told him about them. The Saints of South Boston. Killing evil men to avenge and protect the innocent. Sending them off with prayers and pennies in their eyes to forgive them in death. But this statement didn't sound saintly at all. To refuse to help the needy.

"Connor, those people are really old and sick. There's only five of 'em. 's the right thing ta do and even without all that, I owe 'em. They did the same fer me."

Connor suddenly stopped walking and turned around to look at Murphy.

"You want ta go back t'Savannah. A city that's crowded with walkers. A city with a district that is run by crazy people with guns who enjoy hunting people down only ta kill them. A city that's run by people who built a wall outta corpses. A city that's fuckin miles away and that we can only reach by car when he have little ta no gas, when we've already broken down and nearly got ourselves killed cos of a herd of walkers and crazy hunters out there."

Murphy just shrugged.

"Yeah, so?"

Connor snorted.

"' _Yeah, so?'_ ? Are ye outta yer fuckin mind? I'm not risking my arse and I'm certainly not putting ye in danger over a couple a'strangers. Now stop it" the older of the twins demanded and started walking again. Murphy jogged after his sibling and wouldn't let go.

"Oh, Jesus. I thought that was our thing? People in Boston told me. We're famous fer doing shit like that. I mean, why the heck do we have the freaking tattoos after all? You'd d do it if it were Daryl and his people back there, right? Same thing, they saved ye, you owe 'em. Not going back would make yah a fuckin hypocrite."

"I don't fucking care!" Connor roared and stopped walking once again to glare at Murphy, face nothing but an angry, furious and hard grimace.  
He pointed his finger at his sibling an kept talking, quieter this time.

"'m not doing the same mistakes again. Last time ye convinced me ta go somewhere and cross a distance that's crowded with walkers and crazy people I lost ye. And you nearly died. I'm not going through all that shit ever again. So fuck those old people over there. Be realistic about it, Murph. How long've they gotta live anyway? A couple 'a weeks? Months? They're old, they've survived longer than any of us here. They've had their time. And if they survived a whole year on their own they can do it another year. Also, fuck 'our thing'. The world's changed, it is pretty much fucked anyway. With or without our thing. All we got left is family, each other. It's each to their own now. Get used to it" the older of the two explained and the topic was done for him.

He started walking once again, and refused to stop this time, no matter what Murphy said. His sibling rushed after him, still too stubborn to give in and let it go. He wanted to do the right thing, and he certainly didn't care about safety. He'd rather die than do something unjust and unholy.

"Shit, there ye go again. What's it with you and the 'too dangerous' shit, honestly! I'm no fuckin five, Connor. How many times do I have t'tell ye? I'm a grown arse man, I can watch my ass, I've survived a whole year without ye fussing over me like some old freakin mother! So cut that shit out! Next thing ye gonna do is tie me up with this stupid fuckin rope of yers and lock me in a cupboard under tha stairs like Harry fuckin Potter!"

"Blablabla I can't fuckin hear ye!" Connor snapped back and threw his cigarette away.  
  
He then turned his head to look at Murphy.

"Now shut the fuck up and hurry. Dr Steven's waiting fer us."

* * *

Murphy was back to the whole pouting business, but he tried not to let it out on any of the other people around him. Connor had dragged him to some place that was obviously the tiny medical center of the town, with a real doctor operating there and taking care of the residents. She took her time and inspected Murphy as good as she could, not only because Connor insisted but also because it was standard protocol when dealing with new survivors.

Dr Stevens was quite impressed by the younger MacManus two large scars. Even Connor, who had been busy talking to another kind of doctor called Milton, stopped talking as soon as his brother had stripped down to his boxers, revealing his slightly skinny shape and the terrible remnants of _that_ day in Boston. Although Connor had been bit in his shoulder as well his scar wasn't that big and ugly. His bite hadn't been that deep, hadn't ripped out chunks of flesh and practically mutilated him.

Dr Stevens and Milton pretty much stated that it was a miracle that Murphy could still move that shoulder, that arm, but the wound and muscle had healed pretty good. Now it just looked ugly and gave the younger MacManus _some_ trouble, like sometimes, when his shoulder would just clog up or when he couldn't really hold anything with his right hand from time to time. The doctor's called it a 'lucky' bite and 'considerate walker', Murphy called it 'god's will' with a slight smirk on his face.

Even after all these months he still couldn't believe it either, that he was still alive and relatively functioning. He was pretty sure that if anyone else had ever told him about a case like that or shown it in some movie he would've called it complete and utter bullshit. Cheesy miracles that only happened on television. But this was real, this was about him, and it had happened.

The doctor's asked him all sorts of questions about his wellbeing, or more like, the after effects of his injuries. Murphy really wanted to get some answers as well, regarding his little problems like the memory loss or his coordination skills, but he felt really uneasy about the whole thing with Connor around. He didn't want to talk about it when he was there, didn't want him to hear it.

But Connor made it easy for him.

He left.

It wasn't like he would storm outside, but he seemed to be pretty eager about getting out. Pretty much the second Murphy was done undressing himself. He wouldn't say much, just muttered something like "Be right back" and then he was already gone, door closed shut right behind him.

Murphy just stared at the door and chewed on his lower lip, not really knowing what he was supposed to do. He thought he pretty much knew why Connor would leave like that. He'd gone pretty pale as soon as he had seen the scar on his shoulder, or the general shape he was in. He then remembered all of his sibling's sudden fussing over him, his constant fear of dangerous things happening to him, his constant fear of losing him or seeing him getting hurt. And he understood.

Connor felt guilty. Connor thought that he had failed him, that it was his fault he looked like that now.

Even now, although Murphy felt incredibly sorry for his sibling and could pretty much feel his pain, he had to agree with that. To a certain extent. At least one scar was only there because of Connor, although Murphy could forgive him more and more. It would have been easier for him to stay mad at him, to keep blaming him if it weren't for Connor's behaviour.

He could pick up on it more and more, how his sibling seemed to beat himself up over it about a trillion times worse than he could ever blame him. And he honestly didn't blame Connor for the scar on his shoulder anymore. He'd told him himself. He was old enough to watch his own ass, and _he'd_ failed there. Not Connor. He'd failed to kill the walker before it had managed to bite him, so the only 'person' to blame here, in the end, was the undead. Because he'd been the one to cause it. Not them.

And maybe he was a bit skinny. So was Connor. So were all the others. Because this was the world the were living in now. They couldn't just go to IHOP or McDonalds anymore to get food. Food was scarce. People were hungry all the time.

"Can you still rotate your arm?" Dr Stevens asked and snapped Murphy out of it.

"What?...No. Not really" he muttered and tried it.

"Can only move it up and down a bit, and I can't really hold it up in the air fer too long either" he went on, voice still quiet because he suddenly felt upset as well. He didn't really know if it was his own emotion or if it was Connor's, no matter what it was, Connor leaving had upset him from one minute to the next. All of his pouting and his grudge against his sibling was momentarily forgotten.

Stevens and Milton asked him multiple questions and he tried to answer them as quickly as possible, not only because he was eager to get his own answers, but also because he wanted to get out and go after Connor. After what felt like hours of questioning he finally got to ask questions as well.

"Hey, listen, doc…" he muttered and looked at Stevens, who was scribbling something on some paper.

"About the whole memory loss thing..do ye think I'm ever gonna remember everything again?"

The woman slowly stopped writing and then raised her head to exchange looks with Milton.  
She then turned her head to look at the younger MacManus, who was busy putting his clothes back on, now that the examination was over.

"How long since your brain injury?"

Murphy shrugged awkwardly and scratched his head.

"Dunno. 't was hot, then there was winter, now it's hot again, so maybe a year?"

Stevens and Milton looked at each other again.

"And you still don't remember anything at all?"

It was quiet for a while, as Murphy tried to recall something, anything.

"I remember bits and pieces. Faces, words, rooms. But hardly ever full events."

"You have to understand that you suffered through a very serious case of brain trauma" Milton spoke up and Murphy looked at him.

"We're not brain surgeons, we're not specialists in this field, but from what we get - your brain got injured. Then a serious surgery was performed on you with lack of important medication and the right instruments. There certainly was some sort of infection making it worse, not to speak about the unknown infection or microbe that's inside our brains and turns us into the infected outside. The fact that you can remember something is a good sign, but…considering all the given circumstances…there's a possibility that you might never really recover from this. The damage has been done and the effects seem to be permanent."

Murphy swallowed hard, the information only just hitting him now, at full force.

"Okay" he said quietly, feeling the incredible loss from one second to the next, like his old life, the old Murphy had really died back in Boston and would never return.

"But you could ask your brother to tell you more about yourself…stimulation might help you remember certain things. And we're going to tell the supply runners to look for some medication that could help your recovery" Milton offered, picking up on Murphy's mood.

The younger Macmanus nodded and spent quite some time trying to tie his shoelaces while nodding eagerly.

"Aye, thank ye" he muttered and then finally, _finally_ managed to tie the laces and get the hell out of this place.

* * *

**a couple of minutes earlier…**

Connor closed the door shut behind him. He tried not to slam it, but he was pretty much beside himself. He had a hard time breathing and struggled to stay calm. He walked in circles for a bit, in front of the door, up and down the corridor, breathing in and out, in and out, but no matter what he did, it felt like someone or something was strangling him.

He felt a sudden, intense pressure on his chest, his eyes, his entire body, and then finally walked over to the wall to slide down on it and sit on the ground. He wanted to stay close to the room his brother was in, wanted to hear what was being said. But he just couldn't stay in there, couldn't keep staring at his twin when Murphy looked like _this_.

Until now, he'd only caught tiny glimpses of the scar on his sibling's shoulder, since it had always been covered by his shirt. But now that it was fully exposed the sight of it had hit Connor like an unforgiving fist in his stomach. It looked a whole lot worse than all of his scars combined.

The older of the twins raised his left arm and turned it around so he could look at his own, his very first bite from that night on the farm. He'd thought that it had been horrible back then. The pain had been unbearable, he'd thought that it had been the most painful experience in his life, but that tiny, unimpressive scar was nothing compared to what his sibling had been through, because really. Murphy looked like he'd been butchered. Not just his head, but also his shoulder.

And not to speak about how _skinny_ he was. It wasn't like it was that new for the both of them. They were used to hunger. When they'd moved to America they'd been pretty much starving, too. For the first couple of months. They'd never been wealthy, never lived a healthy live, but he'd always made sure that Murphy was well fed.

He certainly needed to change that later, get more food in his sibling, but right now he couldn't really function. Because of Daryl, he'd gotten so used to associate this face with a well fed, muscular and healthy body. Sure, Daryl had some terrible scars of his own, but even those were nothing compared to Murphy's. Both his and Daryl's scars were 'clean'. 'Even'. His brother's were deep, fleshy, and ugly.

"Fuck" he managed to whisper and struggled really hard not to start bawling, although he totally felt like it.

Seeing the scars like that, all exposed and in broad daylight had been too much for him, only adding up to everything he was currently struggling with anyway.

One second he was fine and beyond happy, the next he was back to being depressed and in pain.

_'Fuck' was an understatement._

He certainly needed to get drunk. He certainly didn't want to deal with this shit anymore. Didn't want to see it, _couldn't_ deal with it. Part of him just wanted to get the hell away from here, look for Daryl, drag him out of Woodbury, maybe go back to the prison to just pretend. Pretend that everything was still the same, his old 'new' life with Daryl, who had put him back together and made him function again. It had been so nice and easy before this, before they had found Murphy and he had forced himself into that 'big brother' position again.

Sure, the past year had been depressing as hell, but still, easier. He'd gotten to picture Murphy. Maybe hallucinate but whatever. At least this Murphy had been 'perfect'. Untouched. Healthy and his usual self, like the Murphy on the picture, the Murphy he'd burned back at the prison. Before all this he'd never had to worry that much, certainly not about Daryl because the guy could watch his ass just fine. Hell, he'd even told Daryl about this before the whole Augusta and Savannah business.

_It's not like that. I'm not glad he died. I would've died fer him. I'd have done anything for him and 't was my job ta protect him cos I always considered myself the older brother but...as soon as he was gone there was a tiny part of me that was relieved because I didn't have to be responsible anymore? That I didn't have ta take care of anyone but myself? If that makes sense?_

Sure, Murphy was his brother, his twin, his better half. And of course, he was still beyond happy that he was still alive. But the truth was that up until now he'd never had to adjust to this new situation. Before the apocalypse he had been a big brother. A responsible one even. Sure, their life had been dangerous even back then, but not THAT dangerous.

As soon as the outbreak had started, within two weeks even, he had lost Murphy. Not just him, but also this role. In the apocalypse, this new world, he'd never been a big brother. Never even been a brother at all. He'd been just Connor. A person of his own. A very good friend, a fighter, but at the same time - a wrack. There was no denying it. He'd strayed pretty far from the old Connor, the old big brother and responsible, collected person.

But now he'd been thrown right back in this old role, that old life he didn't really fit in anymore. Life was a trillion times worse now, a trillion times more dangerous, which pretty much drove every single family man or woman insane. He'd seen so many people lose their family members. Carol, when she'd lost Sophia. Rick, when he'd lost Lori. Rick, who was struggling just as much with two children now. There was so much to worry about, so much to protect his family from, so much to be responsible for, that he honestly didn't know how the fuck he was supposed to manage that, especially when he'd never really recovered from his own emotional crack.

He'd seen so much shit. Herds of walkers. Cannibals. Rapists. Murderers. Psychos. That sick Governor bastard with his death fights, torture chambers and his fucked up war. He wasn't even sure if the old Connor, the one prior that day in Boston, would've been able to handle that shit without absolutely losing it sooner or later.

He listened to their talk behind the door and that didn't make him feel any better about it, because then he could hear his brother list all the things he had problems with now, not just because of his bitten, terrible shoulder, but also because of the headshot. Apparently, Murphy's memory loss was pretty bad. And he had trouble operating things with his hands. Murphy's aim wasn't top notch anymore. It was terrible. And to top it all - he couldn't see clearly. On his right eye. Then there were all the silly things like not being able to really write or read or tie his shoelaces without problems.

Everything he'd told Daryl about was actually real.

_I mean I saw all those fucking documentaries and shit about that. Headshots like tha, those made people cripples. Drooling illiterate cripples with…with memory loss or..or paralysis and people with half their skulls missing and..Jesus fuckin Christ, my headshots usually blew brains and eyes out and killed people!_

Of fucking course. He'd clung to his stupid movie ideas until now. All the stories he'd seen in his favourite classics. Miracles. Happy endings. Of course there'd be no real happy endings in this fucked up, cruel reality. Dead people were walking and eating the living. Should've made it clear enough. He'd thought that keeping Murphy from everything in the future, that locking him in a room and protecting him as good as he could would be enough to make up for this epic fuck up, but the truth was that he'd done far too much damage already.

Goodbye fairytale. No going right back to where they'd left off before this entire outbreak thing.

He didn't get to think the whole thing through, because right then the door opened. Dr Stevens and Milton walked right past him and left the house, and then there was Murphy, his twin, the person that was giving him such a headache right now. Murphy left the room last and closed the door. He waited for Milton and Dr Stevens to leave and then crouched down next to his sibling, so he could sit down beside him.

"Are ye okay?" he asked quietly, worry and concern shoving in his voice. If Connor weren't so emotionally fucked right now then he would've been happy about that fact that their connection obviously seemed to be there, still there, even after one year of separation. Murphy still seemed to be able to feel when he was upset or not okay, even when he was in the other room.

Connor snorted and rubbed his right eye absently, considering what he should do. He knew that he was supposed to be strong and not talk about his feelings and all that bullshit. Rocco had told them that once after all. He considered himself to be the big brother so he was supposed to be strong, but he also knew that it was useless to try to lie to Murphy. They'd never been able to lie to each other and get away without the other knowing it, and although so many things were fucked between them now Connor was pretty sure that his sibling was still able to do that.

"No. 'm pretty far from being okay, Murph" he admitted, voice quiet and maybe a bit broken. He was quite surprised by this sudden emotional 'breakdown', because just a couple of minutes ago, when he'd been talking to Daryl, he'd honestly been fine. All laughing and joking, maybe even thinking about really diving into the whole 'friends who happen to fuck each other' business.

This was the sad truth, even now. Out of the two of them, Daryl made him happier than Murphy. Or more like - more carefree. Because around him he didn't have to worry, because the hunter knew exactly how to ground him, challenge him, force him to man up in their countless fights and scuffles. With Daryl he never really had to use his brain like that, not because his friend was stupid, but because with him everything was far more basic, far more animalistic and simple.

It certainly wasn't the first time he was talking about how he truly felt. He'd done that with Daryl a lot, too, but even back then he'd always refrained from talking about how he -truly- felt, he'd always refrained from being completely honest and letting _everything_ out. After all, Murphy had been the only one he could really talk to about everything, without feeling bad about it or being embarrassed.

But now Murphy was back with him, right beside him, his usual quiet and compassionate self, the one who honestly wanted to help and protect the people he loved, without any seconds thoughts about whether it was 'manly' or not. And this was the other difference between him and Daryl, why Connor could be honest about it and not cover it with an act when he was with his brother. He knew that Murphy was better at actually comforting people, that he wouldn't call him stupid names and insult him all the freaking time just to make everything about it ridiculous and childish.

"I'm so, so fuckin sorry fer the shit I put you through. Jesus, those fuckin scars on ye. Their just there cos I fucked up. I fucked it up, Murph. Big time. So fuckin much, man, and I'm so sorry but I can't make it right no matter how hard I fuckin try" he went on and stared at the ceiling, banging his head against the wall once to keep the tears inside.

"'t wasn't yer fault" Murphy mumbled, quite surprised himself because up until now Connor had always fallen quiet whenever it had been about time to talk about how he truly felt, except for that one time in the woods when they'd first talked about that day.

"'f course it fuckin was. I pulled the fuckin trigger" Connor said angrily, once again riling himself up more and more before Murphy got the chance to protest. "And now ye don't remember shit and ye can't really see and ye can't do the most basic stuff and that's on me."

There was a long pause as Connor pressed his fist to his closed mouth, trying hard to shut up, but everything just kept coming up, the entire year suddenly overwhelming him simply because he'd been confronted with the past.

"'s not even just that that makes me feel like shit. Jesus, Murph. You got no idea. What I've done ever since that day. Countless fucked up things, shit I've never even talked about t'anyone. Not even Daryl. Those two months after that Boston incident? Jesus fuckin Christ. I broke practically every single commandment, you don't even know the definition of my kinda screw up. I didn't just fail ye, I failed myself, I failed practically every-fuckin-one around me. I got so many people killed, I killed so many people and 'f course 'm far from fucking okay ever since that walker came even close ta you cos _I_ fucked it up."

He didn't even know why he would admit to all that now. It was true, even Daryl didn't even know about half the things he'd been through before they had met each other, because up until now Connor had pretended that nothing had ever happened anyway. But since Murphy had asked whether he was okay he figured that it was pretty much time to admit it, to admit everything. How he felt, that even after all this time he was still pretty depressed, with everything coming back again, simply because of Murphy's return, with his scars as a constant reminder.

"I mean, fuck. I tried practically _everything_ t'make up fer the shit I've done ta you, I wanted t'trade places, and I really thought I've paid the price but now just fuckin look at you. It didn't change shit. Maybe I got ye back, but yer still all screwed up."

Murphy just stared at his sibling, still incredibly shocked. If he'd known that his scars hurt Connor so much then he would've asked him to leave before seeing them, to keep him from all this, but now it was too late anyway and maybe it was a good thing to really hear his sibling talk about it. But it still hurt him to see his brother like that, and just like before he couldn't help but remember Daryl's words.

_Yah the lucky one outta yah two!_

Maybe he really was. At least he didn't really have enough memories left, memories that could torture him like _that_.  
He swallowed hard and kept looking at Connor, and although he didn't really want to hear it he still needed to know.

"Daryl told me" he said quietly, which made Connor look up.

"'bout all of _yer_ scars" he went on and pointed at Connor's arm and then bandaged hand, the 'u' shaped scar on his lower arm that he had noticed right after Daryl had told him. Both brothers looked at each other for a little while longer until Murphy broke the final wall.

"About the stable incident" he finished the sentence, trying to put it as mildly as possible.

Connor snorted and looked away.

"Yeah, well. 'bout that" he muttered and wouldn't say anything after that, and it was a bit hard for Murphy to read him since he couldn't see his face either. But he still understood. There it was, the ultimate proof that Daryl had told him the truth. His own brother had really tried to do it. Because of him.

"Jesus, Connor. If I'd known about all that shit before I wouldn't have been such a fuckin dick about it" he admitted and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"I mean, ye gotta understand me. See it fram my pointa view. I didn't know shit about ye, or what happened. Ta me it fuckin looked like yah tried ta kill me on purpose, like ye were some sorta dick who couldn't wait ta get rida me the moment this whole outbreak thing started. But I know now that it wasn't like tha, at all. Okay? D'ye hear me? It's alright, Conn. I forgive ye. Listen t'me. _I forgive you_. I don't even need t'do it cause it really _wasn't_ yer fault."

Just like before Connor wouldn't answer, wouldn't look at him, he just snorted.

"And I swear ta fuckin god, if I find ye hanging somewhere just cos ye pussy cannot handle seeing some freaking scars I'm gonna fuckin kill ye."

Connor finally chuckled and then turned his head to look at Murphy. He still looked pretty miserable but at least he was smiling, giving his sibling that crooked, charming smirk of his.

"Relax, brother. 'm far past that shtick. 'm not gonna off myself. 've had a pretty good doctor" he said quietly, still smirking.

"Good. Cos just like I said. 'm gonna beat yer arse six ways fram sunday and kill ye if you do that.  
It's a fuckin sin, Connor. And ye know it."

Connor's face fell from one second to the next, if only for a short amount of time because those words still rang a dangerous bell.

_Suicide's a sin, Connor.  
Don't kill yerself…Promise._

He then smiled yet again, and although it was a sad one it was smile after all.

"I promise, Murph."

"Good. Dickhead."

Connor let out a surprised, gentle laugh, because he remembered that insult from their childhood. He wasn't sure if Murphy remembered it as well or if it was just a coincidence, but it still made him laugh. There was silence after that, because for some reason both twins didn't really want to get up just yet. They enjoyed the fact that they were pretty much alone in here, with all the trouble and people _outside_ those walls. They also knew that if they wanted to get out of here and get back to their own apartment the whole urge to openly talk about everything would be gone, so they used this opportunity.

"That doctor of yers" Murphy said after a while, picking up on that detail only just now.

"Happens ta be a redneck who sorta looks like me, don't he?"

Connor snorted once more, only to rub his face awkwardly and avoid eye contact.

"Ye mean since we're pretty much speaking about the incredibly long list'a sins that I've committed since we parted ways?"

Murphy widened his eyes a bit, surprised that his sibling would pretty much throw this information right in his face.

"Come on. Cat's pretty much outta the bag anyway, isn't it. I know ye were eavesdropping on us, ye little shit. The look on yer fuckin face gave it away. Yer shite at hiding things"Connor added, picking up on his siblings reaction without really seeing it.

"Okay…." Murphy muttered and chewed on his thumbnail with a shrug.  
He supposed that Connor was pretty much right there, so he sure as hell wouldn't keep quiet about it anymore.

"What te fuck Connor?" he finally asked, no longer able to hide his curiosity and outrage over the things he'd heard back outside.

Connor snickered and leaned his head against the wall, so he could stare at the ceiling with a slight smirk on his face.

"Relax" he demanded, but Murphy wouldn't give in.

"No I ain't gonna fucken relax. What'd ye mean by 'last night', did ye.."

"Jesus, Murph. No" Connor muttered and scratched his nose. Considering that they hadn't 'really' done anything last night he wasn't lying when he said no. Maybe he wanted to be honest with Murphy, but he sure as hell was going to spare him many, many details.

"Ye really gotta give 'im a break" he requested instead, and this time it was Murphy who snorted.

"He's the arsehole asking fer it."

"Ye gotta understand 'im. He's seen me in a real bad place. And he kinda blames you fer it. Just give it time."

"He doesn' know shit 'bout me so he doesn't get ta blame me fer anything" Murphy huffed, folding his arms and looking away.

"As a matter of fact, he probably knows more about ye than ye know about yerself" Connor admitted and looked at his feet.  
"I…kinda kept bugging 'im with ye the whole time. Just couldn't shut up about you."

Murphy turned his head and looked at his sibling, because this also happened to be something that he wanted to know about.  
 _Jesus, from one second to the next. Information, information information, one truth bomb after another._

"So...he found ye after...?" he asked quietly and Connor nodded.

" Aye. He 'n Rick found me. In a church. Two months after Boston. Just like I said, tough times. I was in bad shape, but they still took me in. Now that I think about it, I think if it weren't fer them I would've died in that church" Connor said and shifted a bit, to sit in a better position now that it was 'story time'. "Ye shoulda seen my face when I first saw 'im, man. I mean ye saw 'im. He's got yer fuckin face. So naturally, I thought it was you at first. It took me a pretty long while ta accept that he was in fact just Daryl, not ye. And I guess I was…pretty much an ass about it" the Irishman went on and recalled his latest talk with his friend, words like "substitute" and "scraping off" ringing in his head.

"I kept calling him by yer name and pretended that he's you, but after some pretty tough reality check and down time I got past that shit. 'n we became friends. Sorta."

Murphy just looked at his brother and listened, really curious about his story, but he still couldn't stop disliking Daryl for some reason.  
He still didn't really know why, maybe he was jealous of the guy, maybe he didn't want to share, whatever it was, he just couldn't stand him.

"And ever since that day he kinda saved my ass all the time. When I was in a car crash he was there and kept the walkers fram eating me, after a walker bit me he took care 'a me on his own, without this group. He took care 'f my injuries n fed me 'n all that shit. Then he taught me how ta track 'n hunt, whenever I was 'n trouble he'd always save my fuckin ass and force me ta keep fighting. So really, meeting te fucker's been the best thing that's happened t'me since the day I lost ye. He's the only reason why 'm still alive. And he's also the one who brought us back t'gether."

Once again there was nothing but silence as both men got lost in thoughts. Murphy wouldn't stop chewing on his thumbnail as he tried to come up with something to say, anything he could use to form the two questions that were still bugging him. But Connor kept talking anyway.

"He lost his brother and nearly died the same day 'bout one or two months ago. And after that we kinda… grew close I think."

Murphy pulled a slight face and frowned.

"So yer basically saying that.."

"Just don't Murph" Connor said, annoyed this time.

"I know it's fucked up, I know that it's a sin, an atrocity which god ferbids but 's not like I can do anything 'bout it, alright. Shit just kinda happened, and guess what, he's the one ta pull me outta this giant pile a shit. Not god. Where was fuckin god when I needed him the most, or when I needed ye the most? Answer? Fuckin nowhere. I was all alone and he was the only one who was there fer me. So if that god fucker thinks he gets ta judge me now he can be my fuckin guest" he growled and stared at the ceiling, maybe judging god a bit.

"Hm" Murphy just muttered, not really fond of all the information he'd just been given. He honestly didn't know what was the worst thing about it all. The fact that it weirded him out a bit because Daryl had his face, or that Daryl was in fact, a dude. But all that aside, it looked like Connor really needed something to hold on to right now, since he was pretty much fucked anyway, judging by everything he'd heard today. At least Murphy was willing to try to come to terms with it, he just needed a couple of answers.

"But still…do ye..like..love 'im or something?"

Connor suddenly snorted and started chuckling.

"I can't believe we're even havin that fuckin conversation" he admitted and then smirked at his sibling. "37 years of pretty much avoiding shit like that and never getting there, 'n now this. This shit is worse than that time when we was seventeen and I confessed t'ye that I fucked Caitlin Ashcook from down the street fer the first time, and ye were asking the same schtupid questions."

Murphy chuckled a bit as well, although he couldn't remember it, but he was still laughing along, simply because he noticed that Connor was actually a bit embarrassed.

"I don't know, Murph" he finally answered after a while, when they were calm again.

"I think I don't have ta tell ye that it's pretty fuckin complicated and messed up."

"Aye" Murphy agreed, a bit relieved that Connor would admit it at least.

There was awkward silence after that as both twins scratched their noses simultaneously without really noticing it.  
Murphy was comfortable enough by now, so he just kept going, although his ass was beginning to hurt from all the sitting on the cold floor.

"And ye really didn't…ye know" he asked and moved his head to the side a bit, to make it some sort of awkward statement and gesture.

" Jesus, no. I already told ye, alright" Connor answered, once again pretty annoyed and angry, which kind of made Murphy conspicuous. But the younger MacManus decided to leave it be with that, because everything else would be too much information for him. He kind of wanted Connor to be happy and certainly chill out, but that still didn't mean that he really liked the whole topic.

"'m gone fer a couple 'a months and ye gotta do all sortsa creepy shit" he muttered and then got up, to signalize that the whole talk was over for him.

He then offered his sibling a hand to pull him up.

"Come on, ye promised me booze" he said and heaved Connor back up, until they were standing right in front of each other, looking each other in the eye. Connor sorted his clothes and then nodded. The look on his face changed drastically from one second to the next. Getting up also seemed to mean "putting up the act" as well, because now all the shadows in his face were gone, he didn't look upset, miserable, uneasy and haunted anymore.

This was Connor, the laid back, happy and protective big brother and Irishman.

But of course, he couldn't fool Murphy. The older of the two started talking about random shit like a party in their town and how they could go find him a nice 'lady' to get his hands on, but Murphy wouldn't have any of it just now. He grabbed Connor by his arm and made him look at him once more.

"Hey" he said quietly and his sibling looked at him, confusion creeping its way across his face.

"Don't ferget what I told ye earlier" he demanded and they locked in a stare, Murphy replaying it in his head and Connor seemingly reading it.

_I forgive you. It's not your fault. Promise._

"Aye" Connor said, the act momentarily forgotten, the walls cracking and revealing the true Connor once more, if only for a couple of seconds. And this time it was Murphy who initiated the hug, ignoring his instincts that told him to flinch and back away from the man who had once hurt him. The hug wasn't desperate or heated and violent like all of Connor's hugs with Daryl. This hug with Murphy was comforting, uplifting, and felt like home. Connor smiled a bit and rubbed his sibling's back, because even after all their talk he still couldn't believe that Murphy was really there, alive, in his arms.

A second chance.

"Love ye, Murph" he muttered in his brother's shoulder.

Before the outbreak they'd never said it. Never spoken it out because a) they both knew it anyway and b) because it was something 'men wouldn't do'. But now, with society stripped away and death accompanying them each day, Connor no longer refused to say it, because if Murphy's almost death had taught him one thing it was to never ever dread something like this and do it whenever he wanted it before their time ran out.

"Same here" Murphy answered after a while, although he had a hard time actually speaking it out. Even with all their talk part of his brain just refused to allow Connor back in his life, and then there was the other part to it - although Connor was his brother he hardly knew anything about him, he was practically a stranger, and it was pretty tough telling a stranger that you loved him. But it felt right, so he did it, only to let go and nudge his sibling.

"Now get me a beer ye fuckin retard" he demanded and walked past Connor, eager to get out first, simply because everything was a competition once you had a brother.


	3. Party

His first impression when they finally joined the festivities wasn't exactly a great one. First of all - Woodbury didn't have a bar, a pub or whatever could be there to make the whole 'party' entertaining and comfortable. Everything felt a bit strained, a bit off, and the mood and atmosphere wasn't strong enough to blend out all of their problems, the apocalypse. It was a much roomier house than their apartment block, kind of like Dr. Stevens's house, just a bit bigger. The house consisted of two stories, with a larger hall and multiple rooms downstairs, each of them lit up with lamps.

Electricity.

Even now Murphy could hardly believe it, how the sight of a glowing freaking lamp could make him smirk. So maybe the house wasn't a bar or a pub, and maybe it felt a bit forced and out of place, but damn him if it didn't feel good to see all this. Lights. Tidy rooms with clean walls, floors and ceilings. There was no blood, no moisture or mold anywhere. Murphy couldn't really remember much about his life prior this outbreak, but despite all the not knowing it still felt strangely familiar. Safer.

It was both weird but also nice to see all those people around him, who were standing in small groups throughout the entire house, a couple of men and women in each room, engaged in their own conversations. Once again he could also see a couple of kids running around. Most people looked clean and healthy, wearing somewhat clean and 'normal', almost casual clothes, some of the women even wore some pretty clothes and make up.

It was such a contrast compared to everything they usually saw outside those walls these days. Death, murder, basic instincts and survival, where there was no space and time for vanity. People usually wore their dirty, functional clothing for days or even weeks, so seeing them all so different kind of took Murphy by surprise. T

he only thing that gave away that the world was still terribly fucked up and dangerous outside was the fact that everyone carried guns and knives with them, women, men, even some of the children. That, and the bunch of armed guards outside that were still patrolling the streets and keeping watch on their shaking walls.

Connor just led Murphy around for a while, grinning like a child on Christmas as he shook multiple hands and greeted a whole bunch of people he already knew. He would chitchat with some of them but wouldn't tell them too many details about his and Daryl's absence, he would try to introduce Murphy instead, to integrate him in their community.

The younger of the two MacManus twins would happily shake hands for a while and engage in random conversations as well. And no matter how hard he tried to fight it and stay stubborn, he actually felt pretty happy about it, because it had been a while since he had last come across so many people who seemed to be friendly. He was still a bit distrustful and avoided all sorts of physical contact and closeness, but he kind of trusted Connor by now, trusted him to keep him safe and not steer him in another Augusta dilemma.

The more time passed to more annoyed he got though, because practically everyone would ask him unpleasant questions about the scar on his head, about their reunion, how they had managed to lose each other in the first place, and if he really wasn't Daryl's twin brother. Connor would usually take the initiative right then and there, because Murphy honestly didn't want or know how to answer this without getting angry, upset and bitter.

He eventually convinced his brother to sit down somewhere though, a bit further away from the crowds of people, not only to give his abused brain a break, but also to use the time and examine everyone from afar instead of talking to them the whole time.

They were sitting on two chairs in a corner in one of the rooms to the right of the exit, after Connor had finally managed to steal them some more alcohol.

It certainly wasn't like Woodbury didn't have any of that. They would usually use it for disinfections and medical reasons, or for occasional birthday celebrations, but other than that alcohol was pretty much a no go in Woodbury. There were strict rules in this town in order to ensure everyone's survival. No one on watch was ever allowed to consume alcohol, even any sort of pills or other medicine. It was important for people to be in control of their wits and senses, because walkers could attack them at any given time.

But Connor wouldn't be Connor if he didn't know how to bend the rules, and his good relationship with the key members of the town's council certainly played a good part. He had managed to scrounge up one bottle of hard but stale alcohol after promising that they wouldn't give it to anyone else or drink too much of it. He had played the celebration card, the 'I got my brother back after being depressed for a year so let us celebrate plus we're Irish so sue us' argument.

So here they were, sitting in their little corner as they watched the other people all around them, the party without music, alcohol and right kind of atmosphere, but even they had to admit that it was okay nevertheless. It was Murphy's turn to drink and he just let his gaze wander for a while, scanning the room for familiar faces.

He could see some of the people his brother had told him about, the 'original' group which had found him. Rick, Glenn, Maggie, Carol, Michonne, Andrea, Beth and Hershel. Even now those people were still watching him from a distance, curiosity, wonder but also worry showing in their eyes.

But truth be told, he wasn't too interested in them right now. Murphy turned his head and looked somewhere else instead, searching the room. Ever since he had talked to Connor earlier today he couldn't stop thinking about it, needed to understand.

The whole Daryl part.

He turned his head a bit to look at Connor inconspicuously, but his twin was busy talking to someone anyway. Luckily that someone wasn't Daryl, but he still wondered where the fuck this guy was. Murphy chewed on his lower lip and took another sip on the bottle, already feeling the alcohol rush through his body and make him feel a bit tipsy. The months of not drinking anything certainly seemed to make themselves known now. He wasn't used to it anymore, but he still kept going because he actually liked it a lot.

The whole being able to feel his finger tips, all tingling and buzzing, the being able to blame his limited sight on the alcohol, the one thing that seemed to ease both his physical and emotional pain a bit. Even to a point where he didn't mind Connor's near at all anymore. He waited patiently for his sibling to finish his conversation and then handed the bottle over, eyes still scanning the room and then fixing on the exit.

"Where the fuck's tha redneck of yers?" he asked, curiously, wondering if he had missed something during their 'private' talk in the alley.

Connor shrugged and took the bottle back with a tiny smirk.

"Looks like he's too chicken ta join the party" he muttered and took a sip on the bottle, only to pull a face and hiss because it burned in his throat. "Always been that way. All uptight like a fuckin virgin in high school. Let 'im" the Irishman muttered but still looked at the door from time to time, wondering the same thing.

Of course, he had kind of expected the whole Daryl not turning up thing, but he was still disappointed. He had asked his friend to join them, to have fun with him for once and chill out, but Daryl wouldn't be Daryl if he decided to actually do something like that. He knew that the hunter wasn't like that at all. He still preferred to isolate himself, to exclude himself from the group and refuse to do anything that wasn't necessary and there to ensure their survival.

Connor tried to sound all relaxed and nonchalant about it around Murphy, but truth was that he was pretty far from it. He clenched his hand around the bottle and tried not to be too angry, but he still was. He just didn't get it. Why and how Daryl could be like that all the time. Sure, he had lost his brother. And sure, he'd had a shitty childhood, but this would be one of his number one reasons to join a party, not run away from it all the time.

Daryl could get the opportunity to get trashed here. With them. He could get the opportunity to surround himself with people, to get to know them, to have fun for once and just enjoy someone's company. But of course. The guy had to be all emo about it. Probably locking himself up in this stupid dark apartment of his, staring at the ceiling all moody and pissed.

The whole thing made Connor beyond angry. He couldn't really enjoy the party himself simply because of the whole Daryl thing. He felt guilty, he felt angry, he missed his friend here, missed the old times when the hunter had slowly started to ease up a bit. Fuck, he'd even managed to make Daryl smile and laugh by now, but all of this was gone, destroyed, from one second to the next, simply because of the man next to him.

Connor sighed and turned his head to look at Murphy, forcing himself to no longer wait and enjoy the party instead, do the exact opposite of Daryl. So he smiled at his sibling and gave him the bottle back, eager to keep going.

"What 'bout ye? Enjoy yer party?"

Murphy snorted and leaned back while folding his arms (which he managed after the second try).

"Feels more like some awkward cocktail party" he muttered, acknowledging the lack of music, dirty jokes, smashed beer cans as well as the abundance of awkward people and boring conversations. Connor chuckled and leaned back as well.

"Minus the cocktails."

"'n alcohol in general" Murphy added and Connor agreed with a nod.

"Aye. 'n cigarette smoke everywhere."

"Fuck me" Murphy groaned and stared at the ceiling, feeling the terrible unsatisfied longing for smoke in his lungs.

The older of the two twins chuckled even more and then rubbed his upper lip.

"C'mon, see it this way. People are trying ta be nice t'us. And it does the whole town some good. Uplifts their spirits and all that" Connor muttered and watched the people around them once more. He saw a bunch of smiling faces, heard a laugh here and there and this certainly helped.

"Aye, totally _uplifting_ " Murphy muttered, once again meaning the lack of true fun and entertainment, but even he had to agree there.

The party had certainly made him happy at first, before the boredom and worry had struck.

Connor shrugged with a tired look on his face. Some of it was true. The party really was boring and felt a bit out of place, considering that there were countless walkers piling up on their walls and how they were playing on burrowed time here. And it certainly couldn't compete with their countless bar encounters prior the apocalypse. In the early days before their work as the Saints, when they had spent night upon night partying down at McGinty's. This certainly wasn't like McGinty's at all and it certainly made him miss their old friend, their old time, their old town like hell, but he at least tried to acknowledge the party and see some good in it.

"Well, Woodbury lost another bunch of people just last week. 'n what else should they do? Let all this shit out there get t'em? At least we're trying."

"Aye" Murphy said quietly and kept watching the others, the kids that were running around laughing, the mothers, fathers and friends that were standing there in small groups and would just talk. Not fight, not kill, not try to murder each other. Just talk.

"Wanna go outside 'n share our last smoke?" Connor asked after a while and Murphy cracked a little smile.

"Shit, I thought you'd never ask" he muttered, because it had been way too long since their last smoke.

* * *

Now that it was dark outside and with the sun being gone it was actually quite balmy outside.  
Murphy still wasn't that used to the hot temperatures down here in Georgia, so he really welcomed the almost chilly air.

He and Connor would walk away from the building in silence, not too far, but still. They wanted to be on their own for a bit, to 'enjoy' their first real evening together. It was still a whole lot awkward between them, because no matter how much they had talked to each other by now- the Boston incident had still left its marks on their relationship and cracked it too much for them to get back to being loving brothers from one second to the next.

They shared their last cigarette for a while and Connor insisted after a tiny scuffle that Murphy should be the one to finish it. The younger MacManus finally did it because the urge was way stronger than his stubbornness. They both still wouldn't say much and enjoyed each other's company, only occasionally greeting the men and women on guard whenever they crossed paths.

The brothers eventually walked over to one of the benches on the traffic islands of Woodbury's main street, to sit down and enjoy the silence and cool air for a bit. Even now Murphy still couldn't stop looking around, staring at the rows of houses, the few candle lit windows. He still had some trouble believing it, that this was it, a refuge without a rub in it. Only the distant growling and shaking of the walls gave it away, but still. The sight of Woodbury made him muse about their future.

He finished his smoke and used the time to look at Connor a bit more, to study his face, his mannerisms, his everything. It was weird knowing that the man next to him was really his brother, his family, the only important person he had left. He didn't even really know him, but even without all that knowing stuff he could still tell that something was bugging his sibling.

Connor didn't exactly look calm or glad that they were relatively safe here after their little odyssey. His brother was lost in thoughts, brooding, staring into the distance. Murphy thought he knew the answer, why he was acting like that. It was either his constant worrying about him, or something that had to do with Daryl.

Murphy didn't really want to talk about either of those things but he still wanted to break the silence, he just didn't know how. He threw his cigarette away and then put both his hands in his trouser pockets, only to lean back and stare at the sky, the stars, the moon. He liked to do that whenever he could, which hadn't been that often until now.

He'd spent a couple of weeks underground in Savannah, or locked up in rooms in Augusta. Only back at the dam in Massachusetts, with Simmons and the others, had he been able to do that a lot. Throughout the winter. Staring at the stars and the moon, seeing them as far away places. Better places. Safer places than earth.

Murphy let out a gentle sigh when he remembered all those nights, those people. He wondered how Suzie, Samantha and Mike were doing up there. He wondered what Simmons would've thought about Woodbury. Thinking about the Major made Murphy swallow. He felt a big lump in his throat whenever he thought about him, really. The old man had become a really good friend, almost a father figure, even. Always protecting him, taking care of him, teaching him.

He'd been so keen to safe this world, to keep him alive, to find a cure and bring civilization back to life. He was sure that Simmons would've been proud of him. Happy for him. He certainly would've liked it here. Certainly would've made this an even better place for everyone.

The younger MacManus looked at his twin for a while and then finally spoke it out, finally broke the silence between them.

"D'ye think we can ever get this world goin again?" he asked quietly and made Connor turn his head. Both siblings looked each other in the eye as Murphy kept going. "Make bigger parts of it a safer place again? Like, more Woodburys? Civilisation?"

Connor sighed and leaned back as well.

"I dunno, Murph" he admitted.

Truth be told, he'd pretty much lost hope by now. All these months of living with Daryl, a tough realist, had kinda shaped his mind. He knew that it was foolish and childish to believe that they could ever get back to their old society. Too many people had died, too much had been fucked up already. He certainly didn't like to think about the consequences _his_ actions had there.

He knew that there could've been a possible cure. There had been the opportunity. Twice, by the looks of it. But they both had fucked those plans over. They had destroyed that hope, simply because they had been too selfish about it, didn't want to be martyrs. Connor kind of regretted it from time to time. His actions really hadn't been saintly. Certainly not what god had wanted.

He knew that his path had been set. His destiny. Their destiny. Someone had to die to safe this world. Both he and Murphy could be one important step forward in this fight. Their immunity, or whatever was going on with them ever since they both had been bitten and not turned. And yet they had run. Murphy, because he couldn't remember their 'saintly' past, and Connor, because Murphy mattered to him a whole lot more than the whole wide world.

He wanted to be with him, wanted to grow old with him. Always together. It was true that he'd always wished to die first because he couldn't bear watching Murphy die before him, but that certainly didn't mean that he wanted to die when he was just 37 freaking years old. No. Fuck the cure. He wanted to stay alive. He wanted to keep Murphy alive.

Maybe there were other people like them. Maybe they were the only ones that god had chosen. No matter what was the case - they both had stabbed their fellow survivors in the back. But still. Miracles could happen, right? One was sitting right next to him after all. His brother had survived a headshot. He was still alive. So maybe there were other ways to retrieve this old world. Save it. Maybe there were other cases of immunity. Like in San Francisco. They just needed to find them.

"We certainly know that there's other survivors out there. Not just us, or our group" Connor went on and looked in the general direction of their walls. "I met people on my way down here. You met people on yer way down here. We saw groups of people in Augusta, in Savannah. They can't be that bad. At least not all of 'em. Maybe there's other Woodburys out there. Nice people. Civilized, friendly groups like ours" he concluded and gave his sibling a little smile.

"Ye just gotta believe, Murph."

"Woah, look at that!" they heard someone shout and turned their heads in the direction of the town hall.

"Daryl brought a deer with 'im! Now we can make this whole thing a goddamn barbecue!" a man exclaimed and cheered, then there was more talking. Both MacManus twins looked at each other for a second to make sure that they had both heard the same thing, and then got up to head back to the party.

"Jesus fuckin Christ" Connor muttered because he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

Daryl.  
Deer.

Which meant only one thing, the one reason why Daryl hadn't joined their 'party' - the fucker had left Woodbury on his own. Went on a hunt. He'd managed to shoot a deer. All on his own. Out there, with walkers swarming the place, no back-up and most importantly - no weird make up of his blood to protect him from them any longer. And to top it all - it seemed to have taken his friend longer than intended. He usually returned before dusk, but now it was already pitch black.

Both MacManus twins rushed back and Connor was a bit faster, eager to get to his friend in time before Daryl could leave again. He wanted to know what the fuck was wrong with the guy to go on his own, to leave and not ask him to join him. They were a team after all, they usually went on hunts together, so he really didn't get it -at all-. When they finally got there Daryl was standing right there, back turned on them, with the dead animal to his feet. The hunter was chatting with the people in front of the town hall.

"You alright, man?" one of the people asked and examined the hunter with a worried look on his face, which didn't exactly make it any better for Connor. Murphy was busy acknowledging the deer's size with the other half of people, stepping closer to get a better look at it while whistling in approval.

Hating the redneck or not - that certainly was something worth appreciating, considering how hungry he was. Barbecue certainly sounded good. Connor, on the other hand, couldn't care less about the deer, the party, or a freakin barbecue. He walked up to his friend and grabbed him by his arm to turn him around.

"What te fuck, man?" he asked and moved out of the way when they others tried to move the deer.

Daryl turned around and looked at Connor, wiping his fringe out of his eyes that was wet from all his sweating. The Irishman widened his eyes even more when he noticed all the blood on Daryl's face, vest and the front of his shirt, giving him painful flashbacks of the day the Governor had shot the hunter in his chest.

"Relax, ain't my blood" Daryl growled and then helped the men carry the deer over to another house, the one they usually used to prepare their food and provisions. "Had to carry this son of a bitch outta the woods and it bled all over me" he said and let go when Terry, one of the people in charge of the food, offered to take the thing from here.

Daryl sniffed and wiped his nose, having a look around to check where Murphy was. The younger MacManus had stayed back, giving them some space but not exactly looking like he liked it very much. He was standing there close by the door, both his hands shoved in his pockets as he watched them like a hawk while giving Daryl extra pissed looks.

"I ain't just talking 'bout the fuckin blood" Connor complained, not giving a fuck about who was around them and who could hear them.  
He was too furious, too pissed at Daryl for doing something like that.

"Whatever" Daryl just said and glared at his friend, both annoyed and angry as well. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to argue or be even close to Connor when they were out in the open like that, with people around them. Certainly not after the little fuck to his right had probably heard too much shit already anyway. "You seen Rick? I gotta talk t'him. I've seen this huge pile up of geeks not too far away from here. Could cause us some problems real soon" he said and just started walking, heading for the building where the festivities were taking place.

He wanted to join the party now, simply because he was still running on adrenaline and kind of wanted to drink something. Besides, he was still pissed at Connor for saying he had his panties in a bunch and didn't know what fun was. He kind of needed to join the party, simply to show the asshole that it wasn't like that at all.

Connor was following him and kept trying to talk to him, to argue with him about the whole deer thing, but Daryl simply ignored him. He had to pass Murphy on his way over to the door, and now that he was all hyped up anyway he just couldn't hold back a remark as soon as he was close enough to the younger MacManus.

"How 'bout you move your ass in there and help Terry 'n Taylor, huh?" he asked and came to a halt in front of Murphy. "Big bro's been talking all 'boutcha. Said you two were working in a meat packin plant. So how 'bout you make yourself useful for once insteada just standing here, emo kid? You want a piece of that meat you gotta earn your keep here, you know" he said and moved extra close on purpose, so they were face to face with each other.

Truth be told, he didn't even know why he was doing that all of a sudden. Maybe it really was just the adrenaline rush, because there had been some real close call out there on his hunt. Or maybe he just liked to annoy both MacManus brothers, maybe he just wanted to make himself clear after that talk with Connor in the alley. He sure as hell wasn't going to give up, sure as hell wasn't going to back off just because of this annoying guy in front of him, who was just glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

"Seen bigger" Murphy snarled and wouldn't back off, wouldn't flip out like Daryl had intended him to. He just stared back.

"Besides. Ain't gonna eat shit'a yers anyway. Now kindly go'n fuck yerself."

Before Daryl couldn't say something to that he suddenly felt a hand squeeze his shoulder painfully and pull him away from Murphy, before any of the two of them could make it worse. "I gotta talk t'ye fer a fuckin minute" Connor demanded and kept pulling Daryl back, who just gave Murphy an evil and angry smirk. The Irishman didn't look intimidated, he actually just looked a bit confused by the sudden attack. Although the hand on his shoulder kind of freaked him out Daryl still let Connor drag him away from the scene, a couple of blocks over until they found a little more private and shielded spot to talk.

"What te _fuck_..is wrong with you" Connor stated and finally turned around to glare at Daryl. The Irishman looked beyond pissed and furious by now, which certainly amused the hunter to a certain extent. But at the same time it actually made him angry as well, because he took it as hint that Connor was pretty much about to go all mother on him as well, the way he seemed to be doing it with Murphy all the time. And he certainly wouldn't have any of that. But before he even got the chance to open his mouth the Irishman was already talking again.

"Why the fuck didn't ye ask me ta join yer hunt if ye really had ta go out there and catch something? Did ye really go out there and catch that deer all by yerself? Are ye fuckin mental? Do ye even know how late it is? It's dark by now and ye know this fuckin town's got a curfew fer a reason, man. What te fuck?"

"Don't get yah panties all in a bunch" Daryl countered, throwing Connor's words right back at him while just staring at him intently.  
Connor just snorted in disbelief, at loss of words because he didn't get his friend at all. But Daryl tried to explain himself anyway.

"Yah asked me t'join that little 'party' of yours and I figured shit'd be boring without some food. I talked t'Carol earlier and she told me 'bout the supplies and that they're running low and.."

"Jesus fuckin Christ, when people think they should bring something to a party with 'em they usually bring a fuckin six-pack, Daryl. Not a fuckin deer!" Connor roared and pressed his palm to his forehead, because he still didn't get what the hell was wrong with his friend. He turned around and took a couple of steps forward to calm himself down. He even spat on the ground to get rid of the aftertaste from the stale cigarette he'd had just a couple of minutes ago.

"Fuck" he muttered and shook his head, only to look back at his friend, who was just watching him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"I mean, have ye seriously forgotten that the whole 'uninteresting to walkers' part is over fer ye? No one fucking goes out there on their own unless it's a freakin emergency. Why'd you go out there and do shit like that? Risk yer life just t'get a fuckin deer, seriously!"

"A 'thanks' would've done it" the hunter just growled and tried to leave with those words, but Connor wouldn't let him, which kind of pissed him off now.

"Good lord, will yah cut that shit out, now!" Daryl suddenly spat, flinching at the touch and backing off so he could glare at Connor.  
"Don't act all concerned, yah didn't even know I was gone 'til now. I ain't your goddamn bro, so stop d.."

"That doesn't fuckin matter, alright?!" Connor snapped back and just glared at Daryl.

"Murph, you, it doesn't fuckin matter cos I care anyway! And I hate it when people that I care 'bout do mindless shit and risk their lives like that! It's not like ye got an arrow and a bullet stuck in yer freaking chest like pretty much every single time ye decided ta do shit on yer own, right?"

It was silent for a moment as the Irishman waited for an answer but wouldn't get one. He knew that there was more to the whole thing, knew that it really hadn't been about the deer. Daryl leaving the town on his own without telling anyone about it. There was more to it. The look on his face kind of gave it away, that there was something deep down in him that had made him do it, but of course. Daryl wouldn't talk. Say what was really on his mind, what was driving him. He was just staring back at Connor, fists clenched and lips squeezed shut.

The Irishman was definitely hurt and pissed because of the whole thing, but he was too tired to dig deeper, to exhausted to keep arguing and struggle against his friend's constant pushing him away. So he decided to leave the whole thing be with one final statement. He even gave his friend the infamous pointer finger.

"Next time you feel like shooting Rudolf's ass ye fuckin tell me first, alright?" he growled and then turned around, to leave the fucker ponder on it, eager to get back to Murphy, the party, and most importantly, their bottle of hard alcohol.


	4. Late Night

The rest of the party was both more fun but also more annoying. They eventually did manage to get some bit of deer meat, although it had taken those people ages to prepare parts of it and throw it on the barbeque grill. Connor refused to eat any of it, simply to make it a statement.

He sure as hell didn't support Daryl's crazy one man hunt, certainly didn't want to give him any ideas and make him repeat that shit. But he insisted that Murphy should eat some of it, namely both their portions.

Just like before it took some arguing and convincing, but in the end Murphy's empty stomach won and he reluctantly started eating the 'redneck meat'. (He thought that it was delicious and a whole lot better than half rotten and dead canned food, but he sure as hell wasn't going to tell anyone that, neither would he let the redneck know that he appreciated his work).

So Murphy ate, and Connor drank. A lot. He would still share with Murphy from time to time but ended up drinking most of the hard stuff, ignoring his promise not to go over the top. Whenever the others tried to hold him back he had some sort of smartass remark on that and just kept going. He could already feel the buzz, because just like Murphy he wasn't exactly used to it anymore. He certainly couldn't compete with his old McGinty's self.

But this wasn't McGinty's or Ireland, this was the apocalypse, and after his emotional breakdown earlier today he really wanted to get drunk, ignoring most of the chitchat and just _glaring_ at Daryl, who was standing a bit further away from them but was still with the group, opposite Connor.

Murphy still didn't really like the whole thing that much, now that Connor had told him about their whole weird and fucked up relationship. He didn't know what had happened between the both of them, though, he just noticed that angry glare on both Connor's and Daryl's faces. He wouldn't ask but observed the both of them in private, at least when he wasn't busy talking to other people.

Both he and Connor had moved over to their group by now, so he could get to know them better. Rick was busy talking to Daryl about some walkers outside Woodbury, which meant two things - Murphy wasn't able to talk to their leader and Daryl wasn't able to annoy or anger him, with the second part certainly being the best thing about it.

He engaged in conversations with the woman called Carol first, for which he earned extra angry glares from Daryl. He would've kept talking to her just to get a rise out of the guy, but she happened to want to talk to the hunter right after Rick, so Murphy was kind of forced to cut their conversation short. Connor barely spoke throughout the whole thing. He would only ever try to introduce Murphy a bit more, or throw topics in the room for them to discuss.

Religion was one big topic there, since Connor knew that both Murphy and the Greene family were religious. The younger MacManus didn't have much trouble with the oldest of the whole group, the Greene sisters' father named Hershel. He kind of felt familiar to Murphy but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was because the man had this sort of fatherly vibe to him, or maybe it was just some remnant from his past prior the shot, something he couldn't remember that much but recalled still.

It didn't take long and Murphy engaged in a full blown conversation about god, religion and the bible with Hershel and his daughter Maggie, and the younger MacManus was actually quite surprised how much he enjoyed that. He tried to struggle, tried to keep Woodbury and this group from sucking him right in, but he failed horribly.

He wanted to be mad at Connor, wanted to call it kidnapping him and blackmailing him with shiny things, but it was -really- hard to try and keep that act up. He just couldn't deny it. He -liked- it here. With all the people, the lights, the electricity, the just talking and having fun. All these countless, painful and lonely months he'd dreamt of things like that, and now he finally had it.

It took a while until Connor finally snapped out of his angry, moody state, and Murphy hated to observe that that change came with Daryl and Carol leaving the party. Connor was back with them almost instantly, engaging in the whole god and bible talk and passionately talking about religion, from one second to the next, like someone had flipped a switch.

Murphy thought that it was a bit fucked up, but decided not to say anything.  
He just knew that he didn't like the kind of impact this guy had on his brother.

* * *

"So…how are we gonna do that?" Murphy asked quietly as he observed their room and watched Connor walk (actually stagger) over to their bathroom.

"What'd you mean?" Connor muttered and turned around, looking at his twin through weary eyes but smiling still.

Murphy scratched his nose awkwardly and shrugged.

"Sleepin" he muttered, because now he felt slightly uncomfortable. There was only one large bed in here, and he wasn't sure if he could already handle sleeping next to Connor. The man who had almost killed him a year ago, the brother he hardly knew. His sibling stopped smiling and looked down at the bed, only to let his gaze wander.

"Oh" he said quietly and chewed on his lower lip, like he was trying really hard to think. "Well" he said, his accent thicker and the words more slurred because of the alcohol in his blood. "Can sleep on the floor if ye want" he suggested and then stared out of the window for a while, a bit too long for Murphy's taste. "Or leave ye alone…if ye think tha's better" Connor went on and then snorted. "I mean, hey, I can't blame ye. Wouldn' exactly wanna sleep next t'someone who fuckin shot me in the head either" he finished the sentence and then wanted to get to the bathroom, but Murphy shifted and moved his arm a bit, as if trying to stop his sibling although he couldn't reach him.

"No!"

Connor stopped in his tracks and turned his head to look at his sibling once more, a bit surprised by the reaction.  
For a moment they just looked at each other, then the younger started talking again.

"'s alright. I guess" Murphy mumbled and tried to sound all nonchalant, although he still really wasn't too sure if it was okay. He quickly sat on the bed and got rid of his shoes, before he could chicken out or ruin it even more. Countless words were still ringing in his ears, what Daryl had told him, what Connor had confessed earlier today. And he remembered his talk with Hershel, remembered their conversation about the bible, the apocalypse, everything.

_Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you._

_Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working._

His sibling disappeared inside the bathroom for a while, and Murphy used the time to get comfortable in their bed. He was a bit nervous and freaked out but didn't even really know why. It certainly wasn't his first night with Connor. They had been with each other for two days now.

He'd even climbed inside the tent himself. Yesterday, before the walker attack. He'd been a whole lot more pissed back then, and he'd still felt the urge to be close to his sibling. To hold him and reunite with him. Not to mention the probably countless years they had spent together. Growing up, living together… Christ, he really wished he could remember it all. And he tried really hard, even narrowing his eyes and trying to concentrate. Just something he could remember, just in time…

The bathroom door opened and Connor walked over to the bed, already grabbing the blanket and pillow and ready to throw it on the ground next to the bed, to give Murphy some space. All the more did it surprise him when his sibling suddenly grabbed his arm to stop him.

"I asked ye t'stay" he reminded him and Connor just looked at him for a while. There was a weird mixture of emotions on his brother's face. He looked both really happy but at the same time upset. It was weird really, and he wanted that expression to be gone.

"Are ye sure?" the blonde asked quietly, and Murphy nodded after contemplating it for a bit.

"Aye" he said, determination slowly growing, because he was eager to get this done between them, because he saw this as his chance to ask more questions, now that they were all alone and more relaxed. Connor nodded after a moment and then finally lay down on the bed, still keeping his distance but now seemingly happier. So here they were, both siblings, awkwardly lying next to each other for a while, on their backs, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts.

"'m sorry I shot ye, Murph" Connor said once more, breaking the silence after what felt like hours.

Now that it was quiet and pretty much time to sleep he felt the sudden urge once more, the urge to apologize over and over again. The alcohol certainly played a big part there. It made everyone's tongue loose, like it was some sick truth water, calling out the inner demons and making them speak. And his biggest and most dangerous inner demon was still that guilt, that pain over that afternoon in Boston.

Murphy knew he was sorry. Knew that Connor meant it. He still couldn't understand how his sibling had failed to understand him a year ago, how he had failed to see his attempts to reach out for him, ask him for help. But if there was one thing he remembered about the whole thing then it was Connor's almost inhuman sounding weeping, his begging, and later his final solution that he had felt with him in that dream.

So yeah. Maybe he was still hurt, maybe he was still in pain, fucked up and crippled because of Connor and damn right that this had been his fault, but he still got it. He knew that he would be hurting for a long time, but he could still forgive. Instead of endlessly lingering on that part of their shared past he decided to say something else instead. To respond with something entirely different.

"Tell me 'bout us" he demanded, because he really wanted to understand, really wanted to -not- let that day dominate him for the rest of his life. He wanted to stay above it, wanted to pull them out of this together and not let Connor keep pulling him down with him. He needed something else.

"Tell me 'bout me. Tell me 'bout the past 'n random shit. Tell me what yer sorry 'bout in our childhood instead" he demanded and then turned his head to look at Connor. "Tell me 'bout anything but _this_ " he finished and pointed at his forehead, the scar, the trauma and pain. He knew that his sibling's countless apologies would never make it better between them again.

He knew that a simple 'sorry' wasn't going to make him heal or make him really forgive Connor. He needed something positive to battle the negative parts, he needed reasons why his brother should be forgiven, what he had done good instead of wrong. Because he was sure now, the way Connor acted around him all the time, the crazy fussing over him and keeping him from 'danger' - this couldn't come from nothing.

Connor let out a gentle snort, surprised by the sudden request. He really hadn't expected it at all. He hadn't even expected Murphy to let him sleep next to him. He'd pictured another fight, maybe some more accusations, but this? For a moment he didn't know how to start. He turned on his side so he could really face his brother, studying his features and then fixing his eyes on the scar yet again, pain and regret showing in his eyes.

"Where'd ye want me t'start?"

"I dunno. The beginning I guess. Memory loss, remember, I don't know shit."

Connor chuckled and then shifted until he was lying in a comfortable position.

"Alright.." he mumbled and tried to recall everything, a slight smirk getting more and more present on his face as countless childhood memories suddenly flooded his brain and blended that one picture out, the picture that had burned itself in his skull. Murphy, all bloody and staggering towards him, reaching out for him, then the shot, how violently his head had been thrown back when the bullet had hit him, him falling, and all the blood..

No. These images were now replaced with a much younger Murphy, his earliest memory, that one time when they had been sitting on that bright yellow and ugly blanket outside in their backyard in Ireland. When his small brain had first really figured out that this was his freaking _brother_ sitting opposite him, that other part of his soul that was trapped in this other body he utterly adored and liked a whole lot more than their playthings.

"Okay. Well, we're fraternal twin brothers..we was born on June 25th 1971… which means that we turned 37 a couple a days ago…" Connor began and scratched his chin awkwardly, because it was kind of complicated and hard to suddenly recall and talk about your entire life from one second to the next.

"I came out first, ye came out second, but only a couple a minutes later" he went on and tried really hard not to smirk, because he was lying there. Even after all this time they didn't know shit about who had been born first. Their mother had never told them, but he had seen himself as the 'big' brother all the time, so maybe this was his chance to set things right there. He knew that it was mean to base Murphy's new 'old' memories on a lie like that, but he figured that since it could also be true he wasn't exactly lying there.

"We were born here in 'merica, but our Ma took us back t'Ireland soon after our birth..Her name was Annabelle. Our Da's name was Noah. He wasn't there ta raise us, but we found him later…" he kept talking and soon couldn't stop anymore.

He told Murphy countless stories. About their childhood, their teenage years or life in Boston. When Connor mentioned Boston Murphy finally spoke about it, but he just said that their city had burned to the ground. That certainly upset the older MacManus twin a bit, because he had always loved Boston. Despite the fact that it had been ugly and crime ridden, despite the fact that this had been the city where his sibling had nearly been killed twice.

But he kept going, trying to distract them from their terrible, cruel reality. He just talked. About their parents, their pets, their friends. He told Murphy about Rocco, Doc, Romeo, Eunice, Smecker, Duffy, Dolly and Greenly, everyone he could remember and had never talked about ever since they had lost them all. It was both incredibly nice but also terribly upsetting, because once again he had to realize how much he _missed_ them all. How sad he was that - _everything_ \- was gone.

Their old life. Ireland, their entire family. Boston. All their friends. All the strangers they had crossed paths with in their lives. Everything was gone. Even worse. Parts of the memories were gone. If Murphy really couldn't remember anything anymore this could mean that he was the last person to remember them, their names, their faces, their habits and voices. And he wasn't getting younger, which meant that sooner or later more and more memories would be forgotten.

Because even now he could hardly remember what their voices had sounded like, couldn't quite remember their faces in detail. Soon all of that would just fade away like all the other remnants of their society, sooner or later they all would be forgotten, like they had never existed, like this old life had never existed.

Connor kept talking, tried really hard to remember every last detail about both their lives, but it was really hard and emotionally draining. He really wanted to share, really wanted to keep as many memories as possible, split them up and share them with his brother, but truth be told, he was actually glad when he saw that Murphy had fallen asleep next to him and wasn't even listening to him anymore.

The older of the two siblings smiled a bit and gently adjusted his brother's blanket, love, relief, but also worry and pain rushing over him once more.

He made sure that Murphy was safe and sound, that he was warm and protected, that he was breathing and alive. He even used his unawareness to get closer to him, to hold him and hug him gently and stroke his hair out of his eyes and all of that sentimental crap, simply because he was -so- happy to have him back.

And fuck.

Those past two days had been a real emotional rollercoaster ride.

Now that Murphy was fast asleep, Connor also tried to rest, and he noticed how tense he'd really been until now. Constantly worried, constantly stressed out and angry and happy and just emotionally compromised. It certainly affected him a lot, to a point where he just couldn't fall asleep even now, couldn't get his godforsaken rattling mind to shut up and stop.

He would toss and turn around, fighting to fall asleep but failing to do it. Pretty soon he could hear the gentle snoring next to him and was quite happy to find out that Murphy still had that old habit, the snoring and sleeping like a log.

Another difference between him and Daryl, because the hunter would've given him shit by now.  
Tell him to stop the hell moving, and eventually ask what the fuck was wrong so they could get it off the table and sleep.

Connor let out a frustrated sigh and slowly sat up, lifting his feet off the bed and then settling them on the ground. He just stayed like that for a while, sitting on the edge of the bed, moving his shaking hand through his messy hair as he tried to calm down. It pissed him off that he was like that, mind racing, heart pounding, even worse - he just wasn't happy. He was worried sick about Murphy, Woodbury, the herds of Walkers in front of their walls.

He was pissed. He was scared, he was depressed. One year of having a mind that was way too cloudy and dark to realize anything, to really process what was going on. And now with Murphy coming back, now with that tiny remnant of his past coming back into his life and reminding him of all the things that had been lost realization just hit him like a truck.

 _"D'ye think we can ever get this world goin again?_ "

 _"Boston's lost. I saw it burn to the ground. Wasn' much left of it. It's just... gone._ "

_Rocco getting shot right in front of their eyes and dying bloody on that cold floor. Greenly getting shot with a shotgun, right in front of their eyes. With his spine ripped apart and his guts sticking out of him, dying bloody on a cold floor. Da, getting shot multiple times, them feeling his blood drench their clothes and run down their bodies. Da, collapsing on a cold floor, dying bloody in their arms._

_"Some stinking asshole ran right at me and bit me." Duffy, the last time they had seen him alive. All pale, and sickly, with the bloody bandage on his arm._

_"Duffy is dead. Turned. He's one of them now. Duffy, Dolly, Even Paul. He protected me from them, gave me time to make it out of there. I saw them...Everyone is gone. It's just me. I'm all that's left."_ _Eunice, the last time they had seen her. So haunted, so tired, so worried and scared._ _Murphy screaming for him with bloody Eunice in his arms. "She's fuckin dead! She's lost too much blood. We're no fuckin doctors, Connor!" Her, back in Fenway Park, getting back on her feet, staggering towards them with dead eyes._

_The woman on the walkie, back inside that subway train. The countless screams of people that were being eaten alive above them. "I don't wanna die..I'm so scared." Tabby, that little scared girl from Prudential Center. Her bone chilling screams of pure agony when she'd been ripped from Murphy's back and eaten alive on those cold, bloody tiles right by the door._

_Murphy, getting bit back on that street down in the city, his screams, his struggle, all the blood, the gunshot._ _Murphy, lying bloody on a cold floor._

All the stories he'd told Murphy today. All the people and places he had mentioned. Gone. Destroyed. Forever.

He turned his head to look at his sibling, who was lying there just like in his last memory, only that this Murphy wasn't bloody or lying on a cold floor. This Murphy right here was alive, clean and breathing, wrapped up in blankets and snoring like nothing had happened.

Connor was happy about that, but he was still pretty much fucked today. He didn't like this sudden culture shock. He'd done a pretty good job building this new life down here, this new identity. The North was gone. All those old friends were gone. But he had a new life here, in the South. One that had certainly made him happy again. Now he just needed to include Murphy.

He knew that he wasn't going to sleep tonight. Not here, at least. He needed to get used to it. No matter how much he just wanted to lie down next to Murphy, wrap his arms around him and sleep next to him. He knew it was impossible.

He would keep brooding, keep getting reminded of his old life and everything he associated with Murphy's sheer presence. Getting back together, back to sleeping together, being together, sharing things together, that would take time. These old wounds needed to heal first, and new things needed to settle. Because really, not just Murphy still needed to recover from -that- trauma. He finally realized that not just losing Murphy had thrown him in such a hole.

Losing everything else was just as hard. So naturally, getting Murphy back wouldn't settle things and make him the old Connor he had once been.

He needed to do the opposite in fact. Let go. Be his new self. And he knew exactly how he was going to achieve that.

Connor got up from the bed and then grabbed his jeans and jacket as quietly as possible, to get dressed and then look at sleeping Murphy for a moment. He knew that he was probably going to return before dawn, and although he felt a pain in his chest over just leaving like that he knew that he still needed to do it.

If this whole year had taught him one thing then it was that he also needed to take care of himself instead of destroying himself just to make sure that Murphy was alright. This year had finally taught him that he was a person of his own, and that he deserved just as much to be taken care of and that he didn't need to be a big brother 24/7. Sometimes one just needed to let go to get better.

He adjusted Murphy's blanket and then headed for the door, hesitating once again and thinking about just staying with his brother anyway, but then his mind was all settled.

* * *

Daryl couldn't sleep. It was the first night he spent on his own in a long long time, and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. Sure. It was really quiet, which was nice. No babbling Irishman, no moving about and robbing his sleep. But still, it came with a price - loneliness, and the whole being left to his thoughts instead. He replayed parts of his hunt a couple of times. The fight with the two walkers, that one time he'd nearly been bit.

He knew it was stupid and whiny, but a tiny part of him had wanted it. Let the fucker bite him, sit down and die, to finally leave this shitty world that he hated so much, to be reunited with Merle. But he just thought like that _sometimes_. Not all the time.

He certainly liked to risk his life, liked the thrill of it, and the deer sure had been worth it. He was just a bit pissed because Connor hadn't really appreciated it. He'd gone to this stupid freaking party of his, hadn't he? So really, he didn't get all the drama the Irishman had caused, yelling at him like that and going full on mother on him.

Part of him was flattered and happy, of course. Connor had cared. Connor had been worried. Which was a good sign, which meant that the dumbass wasn't just all over this asshole brother of his. But still. He missed their old brawls, missed their old hunts, their time together, the whole sharing an apartment and all that crap. He missed those times when -he'd- been Murphy.

And how great was that, really. He'd thought that his life had gotten better because of the apocalypse. It had killed that son of a bitch who had once called himself his father. It had fred Merle from prison and prevented another bunch of cops from ever locking him up again. (Okay, except for the whole Rick part, but hey, he'd forgiven him a long time ago).

The apocalypse had made him part of a group. People that weren't abusive. People that didn't treat him like trash. People who respected him and appreciated his company. The apocalypse had given him a best friend, a female best friend, other friends, a family even. Just because of the apocalypse he'd been able to hold a baby, just because of the apocalypse he was able to watch her grow up, watch other kids grow up.

He'd gone from being lonely, abused and getting treated like trash with Merle in jail, to a life without his father, with Merle, a best friend, a good family on top of that, and then right back to the start. Here he was again. Lonely. Without Merle. Possibly and slowly without his best friend. And once again he felt worthless because Merle had died, felt worthless because he wasn't Murphy.

Absolutely brilliant.

Daryl turned on his side and hissed in pain, because his broken rib still hurt like a bitch, just like his knee which he had kind of twisted on his run away from the herd of walkers, when he had carried the deer back to the group. Oh the irony. Even the pain part was back, even the battered shit was back. And to top it all he was right back here in this shithole, this environment which he really didn't like at all.

Back to the start.

For a while he just lay there and tried to sleep, but he just couldn't stop brooding.

Just when he was finally done moving about and ready to close his eyes he heard a sudden knock on his door.bDaryl frowned and turned around, quickly covering his bare chest and back to hide the scars and tattoo on his back, just in case Carol decided to enter like last time.

Knock Knock.

Daryl rubbed his eyes and sat up, trying to listen up and hear what was going on.  
 _Was there a walker attack? Some problem? Did Rick or anyone else need his help?  
Were the walls giving in or had that large herd caught his scent and made his way here?_

He got up and headed for the door, already preparing himself for the worst. He couldn't find his shirt right away but the banging on the door got louder and more impatient each time, so he decided to leave it be and walked right up to it. He somewhat positioned himself so that the door would cover most of his body as soon as he opened it, and when he finally did it he was surprised _not_ to see Rick standing there.

It was Connor.

Standing there, right in front of him, hair pointing in every direction, eyes sunken in and red from the alcohol which he could smell half a mile away, with the guy just looking at him, even swaying a bit. Daryl didn't understand shit. What was wrong, what Connor wanted here in the middle of the night, if something was wrong with this goddamn Murphy kiddo, or if it really was something Woodbury related. Both men just stared at each other for a while, Daryl waiting and Connor looking at nothing in particular, until he finally spoke up.

"Y'gonna let me in or what?" the Irishman muttered, his accent already far more present because of his slightly drunken state and the fact that he had spent more time with a fellow Irishman, his brother. Daryl eyed his friend head to toe, still not getting what was up with that, but he let go of the door and stepped away from it so he could turn his back on his friend and let him enter.

"T'hell's yah problem? Good lord, normal people usually sleep during.." he said and turned his head to look at his friend while talking, but he couldn't keep going because Connor already attacked him. He staggered right into him and already pressed his lips on his to shut him up.

Just like the times before it was pretty rough and sloppy, and since Connor was also a bit drunk on top of that it just made it worse. Because not just their mouths crashed together but also their teeth and noses, the thing being half-headbutt half-kiss, to a point where Daryl almost thought that his friend had managed to freaking break one of his teeth.

Daryl groaned in both pain and surprise and started struggling, but Connor tried really hard to keep going, he even kept moving and shoving until the hunter's back connected with something, which happened to be the cupboard.

"Ow, jesus! What the fuck?!" Daryl exclaimed and finally knew how to move his muscles again, because the kiss had pretty much taken him by surprise and rendered him defenseless until now. But the sudden roughness of it all already rang a dangerous bell and he certainly could already feel panic rising in his chest. It was a bit too much like in his late infancy and early teens, almost the exact same in fact.

Someone, rumbling up the stairs to his room, smelling of alcohol and stale cigarettes. Some hurting him, manhandling him and doing shit to him without asking if he was okay with that. It just flipped the switch and Daryl finally managed to fight Connor off, trying to punch his guts somehow and keep him the hell away from him.

Except that this was exactly what Connor had wanted anyway. He stopped the kissing attack and took the blow with nothing but a huff. Sure, it did hurt, but he had been prepared for it, waiting for it, taking it, and feeling relieved about the fact that the alcohol took the edge off. He relaxed a tiny bit and moved his head next to Daryl's instead, pressing his cheek to his neck with an exhausted, shaky exhale.

And that confused Daryl a bit.

He had expected some sort of struggle, some fighting, and most importantly - an explanation.   
But they just stood there, still pretty close to the cupboard.

"You're drunk" he finally observed, stating the obvious.

Connor just snorted and then shifted a bit, stopping the embrace and just looking at Daryl with a tiny smirk. But even with that he still looked like shit.

"Obviously ain't drunk enough" he muttered and then looked away. "But certainly makes shit less fuckin complicated" he went on and tried it again.

He managed to lock their lips for a moment, but knew that it wouldn't take long and Daryl would fight him off once more. Just like the other times before he pretty much knew that it was fucked up. Selfish even. But the whole realization part with Murphy, the being with him and talking to him had made him realize one thing - it helped. It stuffed the countless holes in his chest somehow, satisfied that sick need in him, the things Murphy's almost death had caused and which Murphy could never repair.

It wasn't like he wanted anything like _that_ from Murphy. With Murphy. Not in a million years. But at the same time it was exactly that. It was all about Murphy, all the things he couldn't get from him, all the things that were missing because of him. Daryl was the missing parts, the person to fill those holes and make him stop hurting and longing for shit even he couldn't understand.

This was the stupid, fucked up truth. He needed to be okay for Murphy, needed to be strong and level-headed. But he was too fucked up these days, and Murphy certainly couldn't make him okay, certainly couldn't get him to that level. Quite the opposite. He was the one making everything complicated, making everything hard. He was the loving part, the good part, his better half, and yet he couldn't make him better. Because Murphy was forgiving, honestly good and passionate. But he didn't need forgiveness, he wanted to not feel guilty by taking the rough way.

Daryl was the evil part. The fucked up, violent half. He could do the things that would usually fuck people up, but with them it was different, with him it was different, because those things did the exact opposite to him. Daryl -could- make him okay, tell him exactly where his place was, who he was, who he needed to be in order to make it through these endless piles of shit.

In his and Daryl's relationship he was the Murphy, he was the needier part of the chain, he was the one who needed to be taken care of. Daryl was the only one who could take the reins, rip them out of his hands and most importantly - take this new, old weight off his shoulder. Only with the hunter and without Murphy was he really a person of his own, only with him could he really take care of himself.

Because during this entire year, this had been their way of coping with everything, this had been their way of healing his tortured, screaming soul. This was how he had managed to get better after all. Their countless fights on the farm, the constant battle and pushing away, the hating each other instead of loving each other but in the end totally loving each other, but this had always been true - only a good amount of hate could keep everything going, it was all about the mixture, the lack of responsibilities, caring and love.

And to make it even more fucked up - he needed the polarity.

It was true, most people liked to think that he and Murphy were polar opposites. And to a certain extent it was true. He was blonde, Murphy was black haired. He was usually pretty calm and collected, a thinker, Murphy was the hothead, the emotional rollercoaster. But even with all that he couldn't fight the tiny but important details.

He and Murphy were soul mates. One soul, put in two bodies. Because they were twins, because they were linked. They'd had the same childhood, the same life up until that day in Boston, the same friends, the same family, the same clothes...whatever. Even with those differences, they were still one force, almost one person.

But he and Daryl really were polar opposites. Invisible, angry sparks between them and all that. And sometimes he needed to feel just that, which had been the reason why he had left Murphy and made his way over to his friend instead. There was only one way he could forget about his huge fuck up, his destroyed happy life. Use his new life instead. Not give all the time, but _take_.

He got more and more angry during that second kiss, more and more frustrated and almost depressed. After all the talking about their old life he needed some sort of release, some way to let go, and since Daryl had already kind of hinted something like that yesterday he figured that he might as well take his chance and try again.

The oldest and most efficient medicine, something that was better than chocolate. Something to release that natural drug, the one that was better than cigarettes and alcohol. Endorphins. No more pain, quite the opposite. Euphoria. Induced through sex. Or anything close to that.

He knew that it was wrong and that he probably needed to pray his hands bloody over this, but he couldn't help it. Daryl was the only person he'd gotten so close with, close enough by now to actually initiate something like this. Sure, a major part of him wished for his best friend to be a woman, with those exact same character traits and their exact same history.

If the guy only had tits and all that shit he probably would've tried something sexual like ages ago, initiate a relationship like other people and couples had, a relationship he'd never had or ever gotten close to because his life had revolved around his brother.

Once again he had to remember that he'd never gotten as close with a female as he was close with Murphy and now Daryl. And he knew that he never would get close to that with a female. Not just because the world had ended, certainly not because he didn't like women (he did) or because he was gay (he wasn't). He just honestly didn't want to be in a relationship like that.

Never could be. But one year of being without Murphy had been enough for him to sort of break free and be ready for something _close_ to that, which was exactly why he did it now, ignoring how awkward they both really felt about it.

Just like the time before Daryl felt quite taken aback by the whole thing, heart pounding in his chest and hands shaking. He could tell that something was up with Connor, that something was bugging his friend and made him do something like that. The Irishman wouldn't really hold back this time, wouldn't be considerate, he was aggressive but without any sort of violence to it. No, he was getting _to the point_.

Connor kept trying to shove and press him back against whatever was behind them. It still freaked him out, still made him furious how his friend was trying to dominate him, but at the same time he just couldn't ignore the rising heat between them, the kind of relief that was making itself known in his chest.

Relief, because he didn't have to spend the night alone, because Connor obviously didn't seem to forget about him, but also because he could just feel and tell that there was finally something happening to him. Something like _that._ After god knows how many years.

Sure, he would've appreciated it and liked it a whole lot better if the whole thing was happening with a woman. Carol, maybe. But truth be told, he'd always kind of known that if he was ever going to make that move again, Connor was the only one close enough to ever getting there. Man or not. This sort of thing demanded trust. Loads of trust. And the primitive and animalistic needs totally trumped his moral compass or upbringing right now.

He was still running on adrenaline from the hunt and his near death experience, and maybe this was all it took to give in and not fight.

He got more violent again, more powerful and dominating, but he wasn't using this strength to push Connor away, he just used it to adjust their positions, make it right and clear. If they were going to do this and keep going, then _he_ needed to be in charge.

Needed to initiate things on his own, because everything else would just freak him out, remind him of his father, his past, a total buzz kill. So he grabbed and pushed and pulled until they switched positions, until it was the Irishman's back against the cupboard and not the other way around.

They wouldn't really break the kiss but intensified it, got more and more aggressive with the both of them constantly struggling for dominance, because really, this was were the problems started, where their character traits clashed. Daryl physically and emotionally couldn't take the whole being on the receiving end. He was too traumatized, too scared, too fucked up.

He knew that him being in charge wouldn't improve shit, because he was less experienced than Connor and didn't know how to really have the lead here, but still. He needed to be in charge. Connor didn't _want_ to be on the receiving end, at least not with Daryl, a guy. He needed to be in charge because this was his mentality, this was how seeing himself as a big brother had shaped his personality.

He was the man with the plans, with the methods. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, how he wanted to guide the both of them through this idea, strategically playing it all out in his head, when, where, how.

But of course. Daryl's struggle was far more prominent, far more important.

Which was why he tried harder and harder to stay on top of the whole situation, grabbing Connor by his shirt, yanking and pulling and trying to get them away from the cupboard, out of this awkward standing position, towards the bed. But truth be told, just thinking about it actually scared the shit out of him. The bed was some final statement, the last seal, and if they really got there he just knew that neither of the two of them would stop.

There was no Murphy to get between them this time, nothing to interrupt them because the door was locked and because it was in the middle of the night. Luckily he never managed to move them over there, because Connor suddenly grabbed his wrist and stared at him, usually pale lips red and swollen, hair messier than ever, pupils blown, eyes almost black instead of blue.

"Not th'bed" Connor stated matter of factly, anger and concern showing in his eyes.

_You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination._

He knew it was stupid. The passage made it pretty clear. Sexual relations of any kind with a man were a horrible sin. No matter how you did it. But, considering that he had bent the rules many times before - _Thou shall not kill (mobsters, only bad men), Thou shall not steal (cars, only old rust buckets), Thou shall not covet (happy families prior the apocalypse, but only because those he had envied had lived a happy, normal, safe life with kids) - Thou shall not commit adultery (well, he'd never been married but he'd still had sex after all)_ \- he figured that it was pretty much too late now anyway.

All he could do was limit the damage, take the thing literal. Not _lie_ with a male. So no bed, no lying. As simple as that. But still. He knew that he was going to make a terrible mistake, for the first time in his life really violate his religion, his moral compass. And yet he didn't give a fuck.

Daryl just glared at him for a moment, unsure what to do or how to take that statement. And Connor could finally see the impact the whole thing had on his friend. Of course, there was the obvious part to it - the whole thing had aroused the both of them by now. Maybe it made him want to smirk at first, that dickish kind of smirk, but that soon got forgotten when he noticed the other things about Daryl, how he was shaking a bit, the way he was standing there with his shoulders pulled up, fists clenched, chest heaving and pupil-blown, wide eyes. He didn't just look like that because he was aroused.

No. Daryl Dixon actually seemed to be scared shitless.

Unbelievably unsure of himself, he also seemed to be pretty unsure and clueless about all the things that could happen to him just because of the them making out thing.

"C'mere" Connor said, trying to reassure his friend, trying to get rid of the fear, awkwardness and uncertainty.

He knew that this wasn't just about the fucked up man-man thing. And he had to be honest about it - he was just as clueless and scared shitless because of that, but this wasn't the point. He knew that with Daryl the whole thing was running far deeper, that it was far worse than his upbringing with all of his religion. If Connor's past made their thing complicated, then Daryl's past would make it almost impossible.

 _"So yer talkin about yer scars then, aren't ye...One af yer parents I assume."_   
_"Shut up."_   
_"Father I'd say by te looks of it."_   
_"I said shut the fuck up."_

 _I was playin out in the woods when I found this little terrier. He'd run off, escaped some house down the neighbourhood. I took him home, fed him. Played with 'im. And..well this is gonna sound stupid, but I could relate to him. Poor bastard was covered in scars and cigarette . My dad came home about a week later and found 'im lying on his couch in the living room. I tried to explain it to him, but he went straight for his room, grabbed his hunting rifle and came back. Said there ain't no way he's gonna keep a flea-covered stinking little rug-muncher in our house. He forced me to shoot him dead."_   
_"Fuck. How old were ye there?"_   
_"Eight. But that ain't the point"_

 _"What'd he fuckin do t'you? Come int'yer room at night and do shit t'you?"_   
_"Shut up!"_   
_"Did he fuckin touch you?"_   
_"He did, alright?! He fucking did."_

Daryl had never put his shirt back on after getting up from the bed to open the door for him.  
The hunter was familiar enough with him by now, felt comfortable enough around him to not feel ashamed of his scars, but those were exactly the point.

Daryl's scars. Plenty of them, shredding his chest, his back, his soul.

Somehow they felt like a hard slap in Connor's face, the exact thing he had wanted when he had decided to come here. Daryl's scars pulled him back into reality. Showed him how selfish he really was and how his whole being with Murphy distorted his vision, made it a tunnel vision. He'd come here with a clear intention - to make himself forget, to feel, to take, to fuck (if he had to put it bluntly).

But not because he'd thought about Daryl this way, or out of love or any of that. He'd been selfish until now. Eager to make it all about him and Murphy, to actually use Daryl just like he'd always had, like he had planned to do it a year ago when he'd first met him.

But Daryl's personality and past had changed his egoism. He'd learned to truly appreciate the hunter as a person, not as a lookalike. As a friend, as a fucked up addicting drug, he'd learned to feel strongly for him because he was Daryl, not because he looked like Murphy. He still didn't know if it was some shit like 'love' between them, or if it was a certain kind of dependency and chemistry, and he sure as hell wouldn't give it a name.

And as he let the sight of his bare-chested, freaked out friend sink in he came to the sudden realization that he no longer wanted to get intimate with him in order to forget his own problems (although he still wanted that, too, of course), he also wanted to keep going to make _Daryl_ feel better, to make it about him as well and _not_ use him.

Now it was mutual, and they really needed to get going.

After what felt like hours Daryl finally took a reluctant step forward, emotions still battling inside of him.

Anger. Fear. Arousal.

He had no idea what had the upper hand now, but he made himself angry on purpose just to keep going and not chicken out.

Their mouths finally crashed together for a third time, and this time Daryl moved closer and wouldn't back off anymore. This was a now or never situation, he was running on adrenaline and fear, Connor was running on alcohol. There was enough pressure and triggering going on between them which they could use to blame it on later, so neither of the two would stop now.

The Irishman dug his fingers hard in his friend's bare back and somehow managed to wrap one leg around his hip (and fuck everyone who thought this was gay shit that only girls did. Of course it was gay and girly, but it was also pretty convenient, gave them easier access and a better opportunity to press their thighs up to their groins like last time and give them better friction. Halle-fucking-lujah).

Daryl clung to him just as much, harshly thrusting against him and really panting by now. Yes, it was awkward and embarrassing, but he really couldn't stop anymore. Yesterday had been too much of a buzz kill, he'd been sexually frustrated for years and Connor had come here after all, asked him to come closer, to repeat it and get going, and judging by the noises the guy made it certainly didn't seem like he minded it.

The hunter was really glad that they had somehow come to a silent agreement on one thing. Neither got undressed from the waist down. This way they not only had the alcohol argument later, they could also say that nothing 'faggy' had been going on anyway.

Maybe he'd pictured it to be a little more like in Merle's movies. Or magazines. Or all the shit he'd heard about would happen when it got to that. Sex had never played a big role in his life, he'd never had much of it, but that didn't mean that his mind had never gotten there. Pictured it, imagined it, made shit up and made it some kind of myth. People hadn't made it that big of a deal for nothing, right? But this right here was actually a bit sobering.

It wasn't just embarrassing, it was many other things. Impractical, complicated and exhausting for one thing. The cupboard wouldn't stop moving and creaking along with them, no matter how much he wanted that fucking thing to shut up. Then the angle wasn't quite right. Connor was a bit taller than him and he certainly didn't have the proportions of a girl, which meant that Daryl had to move a whole lot more to cause enough friction and get his thigh high enough.

There were lots of things that made it hard to concentrate, all the tiny annoying but logical details that no one ever fucking talked about or mentioned in the movies.

It was hot, for example. Not hot as in steamy and sexy, because honestly, they were light years away from that. No, it was actually too freaking _hot_ , despite the fact that at least he wasn't wearing a shirt. It was Georgia after all, the heat from the afternoon sun had never quite left his apartment, they were two men who had a higher body temperature by default, heating each other up more and more because of all the body contact.

And since the both of them refused to undress during such a physical activity it made everything just worse, hotter, sweatier, tighter. Not to speak about the freaking jeans. Thick, scratchy shit that was.

The whole thing also made him realize why, apart from the whole being 'disgusting' and 'dreadful' thing, having sex with a man like that was also just plain _impractical_ . The lack of space was bothering him. Like, _intimate_ space. Because he had to keep his pants on the whole thing was quite restraining and almost painful. He had nowhere to really put his manhood here, to give it some room. Sure, with the girl it had been easy.

He'd known where to stick it, it wasn't in the way, it had enough space and was kept in once place instead of awkwardly forcing itself somewhere he didn't even want it to be. Sure, he knew how gay men usually handled _that_ problem, but there was no way in freaking hell he was ever going to handle it like _that_ with Connor.

Although he kind of had to admit that his basic instincts told him that damn right it would be a whole lot better if he could stick it _somewhere_ instead of the pathetic teeny dry humping.

But the longer he kept going like that, thrusting and clinging, the more he had to realize that this was doing the job well enough. He was getting more and more desperate, everything got more and more urgent with every single thrust of his hip. This was the good part really. The neediness, the feeling of it, because he was sure that without feeling that he wouldn't have been able to handle being so close to someone, even worse, to let someone touch his back and actually grab it the way Connor did.

The Irishman kept digging his fingers in his back as he clung to him and tried to keep himself upright despite the constant movement, and Daryl was pretty sure that his fingertips were going to leave bruises on top of his scars. He could even feel his fingers _move_ across them, feeling them, tracing each uneven and healed gash on his back, making them burn with phantom pain the moment they got touched.

But the touch also helped because Connor wouldn't just grab him, he would also stroke his back, slowly and lightly, as he hummed in appreciation and muttered countless things to himself, things Daryl couldn't even understand but that still sounded like some prayer, like he was secretly worshipping him despite the whole roughness of it all.

Connor would mumble throughout the whole thing, Daryl pretty much just grunted and huffed his way through it, only an occasional unintended groan escaping his mouth which he quickly silenced by burying his face in Connor's shoulder. And because of Daryl's current countless emotions, the constant getting closer and closer to that blissful state, his body interpreted the phantom pain of his scars as some sort of good pain. Healing pain. Pain that even urged him to keep going.

Because this was him being in charge this time, during something sexual, this was him being in charge of someone, doing something to their body, this was him having someone in a very vulnerable place. He could induce scars like his own. Both physical and emotional. He could keep going and he could take all he wanted right now, regardless whether Connor wanted it or not.

But he didn't want to do that because he wasn't like his father, and this was the difference now, the difference between the old sexual 'experiences' and this new one. It wasn't violent and painful. It didn't make him want to vomit, curl himself up, hide and claw his eyes out and tear his skin off. No, this time he enjoyed it. Liked it _a lot._

So he kept going, moving smoother and less tense by now, the fear and panic slowly forgotten, the past ignored, the present fading away. Right now it wasn't about what could happen in an hour, a day, a week, this was about this very second, only this very moment mattered. He buried his face in Connor's shoulder, holding on as tightly as he possibly could, to a point where he could hear the Irishman gasp for breath, and somehow that made him snort.

He remembered last year, on the farm. Just after Rick had shot Sophia. When Connor wouldn't stop bugging him and wouldn't leave him be. Christ, he'd tried to _kill_ the guy that day. Wrapping his fingers around his neck to squeeze as hard as he could, just as hard as he clung to him now. One year ago he had tried to choke Connor, and here he was now, pretty much fucking the guy.

Not just this world was fucked up. _They_ were fucked up. Their relationship was a trainwreck. But truth be told, he wouldn't have it any other way. He loved to hate Connor, loved to hurt him, loved to protect him and tend his wounds, he wanted to kill him and yet love him to death, emphasizing that with the constant thrusting of his hips against him.

He even moved his head to the side so he could press his mouth to his neck, on his tattoo, constantly going back and forth between kissing and biting it hard, both wanting to hurt and love. Making the flesh heal and remind it of the damage that had once been done there, with his own hands or with the rope.

This also seemed to be the part where Connor pretty much lost it as well, the neck thing snapped him out of his receiving state and made him want to take things on his own. Just like Daryl he was close and didn't mind anything anymore, and this was exactly the point. Right now it wasn't about religion anymore. God didn't matter right now. Neither did Murphy. Or anything else. All that mattered right now was that he was so close to his climax, the most important thing was to get there.

Homophobia was forgotten, his code and standards were forgotten, this was the point where he stopped being a rational human being and became the primitive human being with his natural instincts that needed to be satisfied. So he wanted to break the last barrier, needed to break the last barrier and moved a sweaty and slightly shaky hand between them, trying to get hold of Daryl's belt and finish it the easier way instead of the endless frustrating dry humping.

But Daryl flinched away from the touch, the friction between them momentarily interrupted and making the both of them groan in frustration.

"No" the hunter warned his friend, completely out of breath and panting through it. He looked almost mad by now, his longish hair sticking up on one side and hanging down in sweaty streaks on the other. Connor clenched his fists in frustration and even rolled his eyes.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, we've crossed that bridge now anyway, haven't we? Fuck, Daryl, don't be such a fuckin cockblock now" he groaned, his voice a whole pitch deeper from the arousal and frustration.

He tried to get his friend back and closer to him, because the tightness in his freaking jeans was almost unbearable by now. It was frustrating enough that Daryl would pull away when he'd been so freaking close, and the fact that it felt like he had a second pumping and throbbing heart between his freaking legs by now wasn't exactly helping. Now it wasn't the whole 'not gay' thing that made him angry, it was the whole 'someone tries to deny me my orgasm' frustration.

But Daryl wouldn't get back right away, he kept glaring at him like that, silently making it clear and setting the boundaries once more.

No touch. No bare skin.

"Fuck, whatever" Connor growled and showed defeat, and since Daryl was pretty much on edge now anyway he would no longer refuse to keep going. He almost slammed back into the Irishman, shoving him against the cupboard and then he already continued to thrust. He was rougher this time because he was frustrated and angry because of the sudden interruption, which even made him bury his hand in Connor's hair, form an angry fist and then pull, using it as support to keep the movement going.

He was even more furious when Connor ignored his silent statement and tried to move a hand between them once more, but this time Daryl didn't get to complain or stop. His friend's hand was still trapped between their chests, far away from the region where it was actually needed, but it wasn't even needed anymore, because right then the hunter's body reached its breaking point, actually making him shout at the suddenness of it all when his orgasm crashed down on him in the middle of one of his hectic thrusts.

He yanked Connor's hair even harder and buried his face in his shoulder once more, not only to get himself to shut up, but also to hide his embarrassment. All these countless emotions, his thoughts and the never-ending movement of their hips had made the whole thing feel all poetic and like eternity, but reality was different. The whole thing had only been going on for a couple of minutes. Far too short, it had happened far too soon, ended too quickly, way before it should have.

It wasn't like he could help it, like he had been able to control it. It had been a _while_ since he had experienced anything like this, anything truly sexual. It had been overdue, it had been needed. So of course his body would decide to let go as quickly as possible, to give him some sort of release, to give him a break and make him relax after all the stress, all the pain.

He was breathing heavily and still clung to Connor, trying to calm down. Despite the whole thing happening too early he just couldn't feel embarrassed for too long, because then he could feel the endorphins rush through his body, making his limbs tickle, his head spin. He still felt great, like some heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders. For just a couple of seconds he felt at peace, felt good, relaxed and far from tense. And part of him really just wanted to fall asleep, right here, fall to the ground and close his eyes.

Connor wouldn't say anything for a while and let him have this private moment to himself, despite the fact that he hadn't been able to share it with him. He still hadn't climaxed, was still on edge and desperate to get to that stage,too, desperate for it to take away his inner demons, but right now he didn't want to destroy Daryl's moment, he just held him in upright, kept him on his shaky feet and waited for it to pass.

The hunter was slowly but carefully becoming aware of everything again, that blissful, post-orgasm-euphoria slowly leaving his body and making him aware of everything else. He finally noticed that he had kind of left his friend hanging there, felt slightly grossed out by how sticky he was with all the sweat and grime in his face and on his bare torso. Not to mention how his pants were glueing themselves to his front, now that he had climaxed with all of his clothes still on.

But even with all that, he certainly felt better than before their awkward coupling.

It took him another moment to realize that Connor was suddenly letting go of him.

"C'mon. Get yerself cleaned up. I don' mind" he muttered quietly and caressed the underside of Daryl's muscular upper arm, and the younger of the two friends was actually surprised to discover that he didn't even mind that affectionate gesture right now. He liked the whole just standing here, so close to each other in general, which certainly wasn't like his usual, grumpy self.

"I ain't..." Daryl muttered, his current voice lacking its usual snarkiness, which was why he figured that a pissed remark would be out of place. Now his voice just sounded flat and deeper, and a tiny bit exhausted.

"What 'bout yah?" he then asked, although he thought it was a stupid question. Everything was obvious. He had fucked it up by coming too early, he should actually make up for it and help his friend to get there, too, but the truth was that he had no idea how the hell he was supposed to do that without feeling incredibly awkward about it.

"'m good" Connor assured him, making Daryl feel relieved although he knew that his friend was lying.

He was grateful that he wasn't being pressured in having to keep going just for the sake of getting Connor to finally have an orgasm as well.  
It may seem selfish, but he honestly just couldn't do it. The whole father issue was right back then and there, because this fucked up asshole had been the first to pressure him into something like that.

Connor just smirked at him and even went so far to move his stringy fringe out of his eyes, a tender gesture he sure as hell would never be doing if he was a) sober and b) not living through the 'after' bliss. The same thing applied to Daryl, who didn't mind it right now and even appreciated the gesture. The hunter just stared at his friend, really wanting to go to the bathroom and get himself cleaned up but at the same time wanting to make sure of something first.

"Yah gonna stay t'night?" he asked quietly and kept looking at Connor for a while, and when he wouldn't get an answer right away he added another thing.

"Obviously ain't done yet" he even went so far, only vaguely nodding further down, where his friend's arousal was still more than obvious.

It was true that he was freaked out by that, didn't want to have to do something about it, but now that they had crossed that first important barrier he also suddenly saw so many new possibilities. It was true. The night wasn't over, that massive weight had been lifted off his shoulders, he was far more relaxed, and he was actually pretty sure now - he was willing to keep going on this path. He didn't want to turn his back on this new sexual part of their friendship. But right now he just said it to keep Connor with him.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, ye retard. Why'd ye think I want ye ta fuckin leave and get yerself cleaned up" the Irishman finally hinted, and Daryl finally understood.

He let out a gentle surprised snort and then turned around with a amused smirk on his face, only to cringe at the feeling of his unpleasantly wet and sticky pants when he moved.

 _Jesus. Add another reason to the list why gay sex was fucking impractical. Yikes, yikes, yikes,_ he thought and shivered a bit.

But he did feel a tiny bit better about the other thing as he finally made his way over to the bathroom to get changed. He'd asked Connor because he wanted him to stay, because he feared that his friend just wanted him to leave the room so he could leave as well and get back to his brother. But since the leprechaun just wanted to wank...well..he gladly left the room to leave him to that, thank you very much.

Because only fags watched shit like that, and just because they had kind of fucked, it didn't mean that he didn't want them to respect each other's privacy. So he finally left Connor to it, on his own, entering the bathroom and then eagerly cleaning himself up and getting changed.

He would look at his reflection in the mirror from time to time, a bit flushed because Jesus, it was more than obvious that he'd fucked with someone. 'Just screwed' was practically written all over his face, and soon other voices were making themselves known whenever he saw his own face. Merle and his father, calling him a pathetic faggot, a disgusting assfucker, someone who should be impaled on a sharp stick right through that faggy ass of his, but he tried to ignore them.

But then he could hear his own mockings and those of his former classmates, bullying him, calling him names, calling him a loser in bed.

 _"It's alright"_ , that one girl had told him, back when he'd lost his virginity to her all those years ago. Just like today he'd been too quick, had come too quickly and ended it to fast, leaving his partner unsatisfied and disappointed. _"It ain't"_ he'd told her back then, eager to leave because he'd been so ashamed, still _was_ so ashamed.

He grabbed the sink with both of his hands and just stared at the porcelain for a while, wondering if he'd ever get to a point where he could be good at this. Not be a panty dropper like his brother had been, but just, y'know. Be good enough at the whole thing to make it mutual. Please someone for once and not disappoint them.

He shrugged and looked at his reflexion once more.

_Hey, see it on the bright side. Who'd have thought that someone would ever be wanking because of you?_

Male, female, it didn't matter. He'd always been convinced that no one found him attractive, desirable, wank material, fuckable. But it was happening right now, next door, and this time it made him smile a tiny bit at least.

He stayed in the bathroom for a bit to kill time and give Connor some space, some time to finish it. He didn't know how many minutes had passed but he trusted his instincts here, he was pretty sure that the leprechaun was done by now. He washed his face and then sniffed on his clothes on his way out just to make sure he didn't smell like disgusting cum tissues or crap like that.

"Geez, got yah geek all over.." he muttered when he noticed that he sort of smelled like Connor now, only to freeze and stop talking when he exited the bathroom.

Connor had left.


	5. Absolution

Connor just walked around for a while, unsure where he was supposed to go or what he was supposed to do. He was still a bit shaky on his feet, his hands twitchy and nervously flexing and relaxing his fingers. He really hated the fact that he didn't have any smokes left now, and that he couldn't just go and knock on Henry's door to ask if he had a spare one for him. The Irishman really wanted to smoke, not just because it was supposed to be the 'after' one, but also because he really needed to calm himself down.

So he'd really done it. Went there. With Daryl.

He let out a gentle sigh and moved his fingers through his messy hair.

_What the fuck had he been thinking?_

Sure, it had been good. He couldn't deny it. No matter how wrong it was, sex was sex. Kinda. He really didn't blame his friend there. -He- had been the one to guide them there, to pull it through. And it had been about damn time, not just for him but also for Daryl, judging from what he'd heard, and his friend certainly hadn't told him much.

 _Oh come on, don't be like that. How long' s it been?_  
Fuck you, I ain't tellin yah.  
Fine then yer just nat gonna tell me. Yer boring as fuck.  
There's nothing much t' tell, yah freak.

Connor wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse. Better, because he'd 'helped' his friend there, got him out of his 'practically a virgin' mode (and yeah, he'd kinda experienced that first hand now, hadn't he), but also worse, because he was the reason why one of Daryl's few sexual encounters had been with a man now. And that was still the biggest problem about it all, that one detail that made him want to bang his head against the wall and make his skull crack. The whole 'not gay' part. Even worse. The religious guilt.

He'd felt great at first, after he'd finally found his release. It had been a long time for him as well, so of course it had been more than great. It had been bloody brilliant. Months of feeling miserable and depressed and then this. But now that joy was gone once more, that happy smile, and he was back to his usual private and thought-ridden self. His original idea had missed its purpose. The cheering himself up had only been temporary.

Connor walked from one wall to the other, greeting the guards there but not really paying attention to anyone or anything. But even then he couldn't miss the noise, couldn't look past the shaking busses, couldn't ignore the stench of the countless undead outside these walls. Part of him wanted to go out there right away, start killing the undead just to keep his mind off things. But he knew that it would be pointless. People wouldn't let him out without causing some drama.

He also knew that he couldn't go out there right now because he was too tired, exhausted and wouldn't achieve shit. Then there was the other problematic part about it - only few people knew about his 'abilities' around the walkers. Rick was very keen to keep it hidden from most people, because even now there was still some tension between the former prison group and the people from Woodbury.

So he walked back to the other wall, in the general direction of the two houses where Daryl and Murphy slept. Truth be told, he had no idea if his friend was asleep right now or just as confused and wide awake as him. He figured that the guy was probably pissed at him now. He'd left, just like that. Taken what he'd needed and then left. Kind of used Daryl like some toy and then tossed him in a corner. It had been a dickish move, really.

But he just couldn't do it.  
Go there, lie next to the guy after practically fucking with him.  
Share a bed after that just like back then, with the couple of women he'd slept with.

_You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination._

They had shared a bed before. That wasn't exactly the problem. But sharing a bed now, after the deed, just changed things. Daryl had asked him to stay, and he knew why the guy had done it. The hunter was lonely. Always had been. He'd never really said it but Connor knew that Daryl wanted to be with somebody, wanted the company, didn't want to be alone. He hadn't told him much but he'd got the picture by now.

His brother had been gone a lot, his mother had died in a fire, and his father had been an abusive drunk. And because of this shitty childhood, the abuse and the family background plus the lack of sexual encounters it made Connor conclude that his friend hadn't been in many real relationships, had never really been that close with someone.

He knew that it had taken Daryl a _long_ time to warm up to him, open up to him, and since the guy had given in to it and actually kind of gotten sexual with him now he just knew that it was because the hunter really liked him. Wanted him to stay close. He had asked him to stay, wanted his company, he had chosen him for the whole no longer being alone thing, but he had pretty much screwed this up. Big time. Of course he'd been a dick, of course he had been selfish, and this was exactly the reason why he felt like shit once more.

But this was the ugly truth, the painful order. Murphy, then god, then Daryl.

_And fuck, how mad was god now? He'd fucked up big time._

Connor stared at Daryl's window for a moment, guilt rising in his chest, and then decided to make one last stop before going to sleep.

* * *

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned" the Irishman began and folded his arms in front of his chest. He was kneeling in front of the small makeshift altar, the one that was placed right in the middle of Woodbury's 'church'. Back in the old days it had never really been a church, but with so many people around and the next real church being off limits the residents of this town had simply elected this building as their new house of worship.

Sure, Connor wasn't too fond of it because it wasn't -really- a church, but he supposed that it was better than nothing. Before he and Daryl had left the town to get to Augusta he had spent a lot of time here, together with Hershel, to make peace with god and give his tortured soul some rest. But now their trip had kind of fucked up that tradition again, and he didn't even want to think about what the whole Murphy-Daryl business was going to do to him there.

For a moment he just stared at the statue of Christ which the supply runners had brought with them a couple of weeks ago.

He really wanted to stay devotional. Wanted to stick to God's word, his own rules, their family code, his morality. But it was really freaking hard these days, when he was surrounded by walking dead people, when he was still so terribly guilt-ridden after shooting his brother in the head, and to top it all - when his friendship with Daryl had gotten so -tight- by now, that he honestly didn't even know what the fuck was going on between them anymore.

"It's been 23 days since my last confession" he mumbled but didn't get to keep talking, to keep confessing, because right then the door opened behind him. For a moment he thought that maybe Daryl had followed him here, to call him out on the leaving bullshit, maybe yell at him. But Daryl wasn't there, and neither was Murphy. No, he was surprised to see Glenn by the door.

"Oh, I…didn't know there was somebody in here" the Korean mumbled and pointed behind himself.

"I'll…just be going then" he went on but Connor turned around so he could properly face the member of his group, while shaking his head.

"Nah, 's fine. Come in if ye want, 'm almost done anyway" he said and waited for Glenn to enter. The other man turned his head to have a look outside, like he was contemplating what he should do. He then finally entered the church and closed the door shut behind himself, only to walk down the aisle and sit down on one of the chairs.

Connor watched him for a moment and Glenn nodded awkwardly, and then he lowered his head to start praying himself. The Irishman bit his lower lip and turned around again so he could face the statue once more, but he couldn't really concentrate now anymore anyway. It was kind of stupid that they didn't have a confessional booth or a priest.

There was no more privacy and he certainly couldn't speak it out loud now, to tell god, because this meant that Glenn would be able to listen. And Glenn certainly wasn't allowed to hear about the shit he'd been doing with Daryl. No one should hear that. It wasn't just embarrassing, this was also about their dignity and pride.

Connor tried to confess by just staring at the statue and talking about it in his head.

_I've murdered people yesterday. Slaughtered them like pigs. It's my fault my brother can't really see, and those scars are only on his body because of me.  
And here's the real fucked up part - I pretty much let a guy fuck me and enjoyed it._

And no matter how many times he talked about it in his head, or no matter how many sins he recalled and confessed, the whole thing wouldn't take his guilt away, there was no absolution simply because there was no priest, no official to free him, and he wasn't really sure if god was still listening to him or if he had abandoned him by now anyway. He did a whole bunch of Hail Marys, crossing himself, and then got up with a huff to get back outside and leave Glenn to his own prayers.

"Nighty night, Glenn" he muttered when he passed the other man and nodded when the Korean looked at him.

"Yeah, you, too" he answered and swallowed.

Connor kept walking and was pretty close to the door when the other suddenly called out.

"Wait."

The Irishman froze on the spot and turned his head to look at Glenn curiously.

"Aye?"

The younger man just looked at him for a while, both lost in thoughts but also seemingly unsure about something, whether he should talk or not.  
He finally did it after a while, and Connor waited patiently for him to speak it out.

"You believe in god, right?" he asked and the Irishman raised both his eyebrows in surprise.  
He then chuckled gently and walked back to get closer to Glenn while scratching the back of his head with a smirk.

"Well, 's kinda hard t'miss then, innit. Thought the tats and rosaries kinda gave it away" he muttered and then sat down on one of the chairs close to Glenn.

"Why? 's the matter with ye, fella?" he asked and kinda welcomed the whole talk right now, because it meant that it could keep his mind off things after all. He was eager to hear about other people's problems, just so he could forget about his own.

"Do you think that..god listens to people who kinda never really believed in him? You think he hears _everybody_ _'s_ prayers? _"_

Connor just eyed the man for a moment, curious about the whole thing and what it could mean.  
He then turned his head a bit to look at the statue of Jesus Christ once more.

"Well…it's never t'late ta start believing, don't ye think?" he asked instead and then looked at Glenn once more.

"'s never too late ta open yerself up t'the lord, Glenn. And aye. I do believe he listens to everyone who seeks his guidance and holy grace. All ye gotta do is believe. In 'im, his word, his everything, and he'll believe in you as well. I mean, he's the one who created us. We're all god's creations and he's in all of us, doesn't matter if ye think it's nonsense. He's always there with ye anyway" the Irishman said and smiled at the statue once more, only to raise his head and stare at the ceiling.

It was quiet for a while as both men got lost in their thoughts, until Connor kept talking.

"I think there's people who are far worse than those who don't believe. Like, people who believe in 'im or use his words ta do fucked up things. Believers who abuse his word and bathe in sins. 's worse than an honest, good nonbeliever" he went on and then his face pretty much fell, because he was no longer talking about Glenn or other people, because now he was talking about himself.

He then cleared his throat and smiled at Glenn.

"So really, yer on the better side, kiddo. Just attend mass with Hershman and yer girlfriend, start speaking t'the big guy up there more often and yer as good as new. I mean look at me, 've done some pretty fucked up things in me life, and he never abandoned me and listened t'most of my prayers. Murph wouldn't be back with me otherwise" he concluded and Glenn smirked a tiny bit as well.

"Right. Your brother, the miracle. Hershel keeps saying that he's the proof that god hasn't abandoned us yet."

Connor smirked even more and chuckled proudly.

"Aye. See?"

Glenn took a deep breath and then stared at his lap. Connor finally decided to ask.

"Seriously, why'd ye ask? What'd ye need gods help fer? Maybe I can…" he muttered and shrugged.  
  
"Ye know. 've always wanted t'do that sooner or later. Help people in church. Can't exactly become a priest anymore but what the fuck, what _can_ ye do these days anyway."

"There's a new supply run tomorrow" the Korean answered after a moment and craned his neck a bit.

"They want me to come. It's a trip to Fayetteville. The city. My kind of territory" he said and then snorted quietly.

Connor just looked at him.

"Ye know ye don't have ta go if ye don't wanna. They can't force ye."

"It's not that" Glenn said and shook his head. He then looked at Connor, eyes showing determination but also fear and worry.  
"I want to go. I'm good at this, I'm faster than the others. And we really need the supplies."

He then looked away again and sighed.

"Maggie thinks I'm just leaving because…"

There was a long pause after that, and although Connor wouldn't say anything and waited patiently he was still dying to know what was wrong.

"She told me that she thinks she's pregnant."

The Irishman widened his eyes a bit and was actually speechless for a moment. Wow. That certainly put his own little problems in perspective. Now that he thought about it, maybe fucking a guy hadn't been such a bad thing after all. At least this shit could result in pregnancies, and he'd already seen it first hand, to what that kind of shit could lead.

"Whoa" he managed to say and Glenn chuckled gently, but didn't exactly sound happy while doing that.

"Congratulations, man" Connor managed to say, although he honestly didn't even know anymore if this was really a good thing. He'd seen Lori, how complicated her pregnancy had been, he'd been there when she'd died from childbirth.

Although Judith hadn't been his kid, although he'd never had that much to do with the family Lori's death had still devastated him, devastated the whole group. Sure, little Judy Grimes was a blessing, a bundle of joy and he loved her just as much as the entire group, but he wasn't too sure if he or anyone else could go through that whole thing again.

"Yeah" Glenn said quietly, as if he'd heard the Irishman's train of thoughts.

Connor rubbed his nose awkwardly and then chewed on his lower lip.

"I don' wanna be rude or something or…intrude… I know 's none of me business, but maybe ye should stay then? I mean, ye know how dangerous it is out there, and if Maggie's really expecting yer child, then maybe ye shouldn't risk yer life like that. I think they need ye more than this town right now. We can manage without you. Fuck it, me'n Daryl can go if ye want. I gotta get some meds fer Murphy anyway…"

Glenn shook his head.

"No. This is something I have to do. She wants me to get a test. We're not really sure yet. And we need those supplies. She needs enough nutrition, should it be true. And it's my job to ensure she gets everything she needs."

Connor nodded after a moment.

"Aye" he just said and looked at the statue again.

"So…yer praying fer god ta protect ye tomorrow? Don't worry. He's been on our side fer so long, he won't let ye down. We still gotta throw that wedding party of yers, aye?" Connor said and nudged Glenn with his elbow with a soft chuckle. But the Korean wouldn't smile or say anything to the wedding, he got hung up on the reason for his prayers.

"No. I've been praying for something else. I wanted to ask him to wait. She can't have a child" he said and looked at Connor, his Adam's apple hopping up and down.

"Not now."

* * *

Connor closed the door as quietly as he could, only to freeze on the spot and stay right where he was. He could see his brother there, right in the bed where he had left him. Murphy was still sound asleep, snoring lightly and carelessly. Connor automatically smiled at the sight of his brother and leaned back against the door, to fold his arms and then watch his sibling sleep for a bit.

There he was, in the flesh, alive and breathing. Murphy, his beloved twin, during fucked up times like these, his light, his everything. His night had been pretty shitty. Shitty and super exhausting. Sure, parts of it had been pretty great, and even now he couldn't stop thinking about the thing with Daryl. He was certain that this wouldn't be the last time, but at the same time this euphoria just made everything more fucked up, more twisted. He just needed to look at his sibling and he wanted to fucking puke. Not because of Murphy and the way he looked, but more like…

Fuck.

That face.

How fucked was he? Just standing here, staring at his sibling, but thinking about how he'd been fucking with a guy. A guy who had Murphy's face on top of that. It was twisted, really. He didn't know how this could work, but somehow it did. Associating Murphy with this kind thing made him want to rip his skin off his body, claw his eyes out and puke all over the place. Because really, that was super fucked up. Disgusting, a big fat nope no-fuckity-nope with a nope-cherry on top. Sure, he loved Murphy. More than anything in this world. He would do -anything- for his sibling, his love was never-ending. But it certainly wasn't love like -that-.

But then there was the other guy with pretty much the same face. Daryl. _They_ weren't blood at all. Daryl really was younger than him. More muscular than Murphy. Daryl was tougher, rougher and less silly than his sibling, and this was exactly the fucking point. Although they had the same face Daryl was everything Murphy was not. Daryl was the Murphy he could never have, but really wanted to have. All his sick wishes, even the innocent ones from back in their childhood when he and Murphy had expressed their desire to marry each other simply because they loved each other so much.

And now he finally had that Murphy, that one person in his life. The Murphy that wasn't related to him, the Murphy that was physically stronger, tougher, less carefree and not child-like, the Murphy that didn't need him to watch his ass, the Murphy he didn't want to look after, the Murphy he wanted to love physically. Daryl was all that, and yet here he was, with his actual brother, his actual soul mate. What a fucked up curse, really. What he'd give for them to be one person.

Once again he felt like shit, confused, and he honestly didn't know what he was supposed to do or where he was supposed to go. Always the same. When he'd been with Daryl he'd wanted to share a bed and sleep next to Murphy, and now that he was with him he wanted to get back to the hunter.

"Fuck" he mumbled and then finally walked over to the bed, to get on his side of it and lie down.

For a while he stared at the ceiling, trying to figure it out somehow. He tried to remind himself that people like Rick had it worse, or now Glenn with the possible baby thing. He really shouldn't be complaining. He kind of had a relationship now, a best friend, his brother had risen from the dead without being a monster, he had survived so much shit, really. He was the luckiest bastard here, right?

But fuck him if this whole Daryl-Murphy-him triangle thing wasn't some seriously fucked up shit. Part of him actually thought that maybe it would've been for the best if he had 'listened' to Daryl and taken Murphy back up North with him. Boston burned down or not. Maybe he really should've gone back to his old life. The 'easier' one.

Get his relationship with Murphy back, maybe make their way up the hills of Canada, grow old together like in that one dream he'd had, maybe find two women for them and be done with it. Maybe even go back to the whole killing evil men thing, because there was more than enough of those fucked up rapists, cannibals, looters and murderers out there now anyway, right?

Except that he didn't want this old life back. Not at all. It simply wasn't enough anymore. Although Murphy was his everything, he still wasn't enough anymore. He needed to stay with Daryl. Wanted to stay with Daryl. He didn't want to give up shit now. He liked this new self. Sins or not.

Connor let out a gentle sigh and then turned on his side to watch Murphy sleep. Once again he winced when he saw the scars on his sibling, especially the one on his forehead, but he wouldn't look away. He used the time to touch his brother instead, to stroke his sleepy face, straighten out his bangs, his hair, to gently move his fingers across the slight dent on his forehead, as if he was trying to heal it with the again he felt so terribly sorry, felt nothing but hatred for himself whenever he saw it or felt it.

_Why did you just leave me there?! I was all on my own, bleeding ta fuckin death and you just left me there!  
I was still alive when ye shot me! I was trying ta get t'ye, ta get ye ta help me! And you didn't see it!_

_The walker, biting Murphy's neck, the sick sound of ripping flesh and blood._   
_Fuckin stop walking like that, Murph…please.  
He'd been begging, but his sibling had just kept coming. Staggering towards him, reaching out for him with croaky, broken sounds escaping his mouth. He'd been so close and then…BANG. The gunshot, the bullet, hitting Murphy's head, the blood, the impact, his brother flying through the air and then landing hard on the ground. The sounds that escaped his own mouth right then and there, the screaming, the crying and sobbing, the tears that had made it almost impossible to breathe._

_His back, connecting hard with the cupboard behind him, the never-ending heated thrusting and rolling of hips, the strangled moans and gasps that had escaped his mouth. Daryl, biting his neck and dragging his teeth across his tattoo, the strange noises that had escaped Daryl's mouth, the sound of lips smacking together, making it hard to breathe. The only time he'd been able to forget the nightmares, the images that would never stop haunting him all day and night._

_Are ye okay?_   
_No, 'm pretty far from being okay, Murph._

Connor buried his face in his hands and let out a frustrated sigh.

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.

He felt like a fucking chick on her period or something. Like some teenager during fucking puberty. He didn't know where up and down was anymore. Why the fuck couldn't he just cut himself in two halves? One half with Daryl, one with Murphy. It would certainly make things less fucking complicated.

He still didn't really like thinking about those two months he'd spent all on his own, between losing Murphy and meeting Daryl, but now that he happened to think about it, he came to the conclusion that maybe this had been easier. All on his own, the not choosing and not giving a fuck about anyone or anything. It had been depressing as fuck and he'd been more than suicidal back then, but this whole thing right here wasn't exactly a birthday party either.

Connor let out a frustrated grunt and tried to sleep.

* * *

_He was sitting in his room, on the filthy blanket that covered the thing he called his bed. He was staring at the broken slingshot that he was currently trying to fix. He tried everything, really, but it was kind of hard to hold the sling AND the duct tape when his hands were shaking and aching because they were so swollen and bruised. He was pretty sure that his thumb was sprained and his wrist twisted, but Merle wasn't there to check that out and fix it._

_He was too small and stupid to fix it himself, and it wasn't like he could go to some doctor. He didn't have any money, and no one really cared. Daryl sniffed and managed to wrap the tape around the handle a couple of times, only to wipe his running nose and curse. Damn, there it was again, the nose bleed. He carefully felt his swollen left eye and nose, trying to make out if the swelling had gotten worse and caused him to bleed._

_He couldn't wait to get out of here, which was why he tried to fix the slingshot as fast as possible. His hands weren't just shaking because of all of his injuries, he was also scared. Coming back home had been his last choice, but he needed the duct tape and scissors from his room since none of that stuff was back at his hiding place in the woods close to their farm._

_He knew that Dad was supposed to be here soon, getting back from his bar trips after work, and he really didn't want to see the old man after last night. Just thinking about it made his hands shake even more, until he lost grip of the duct tape. It landed on the floor with a loud CLACK and rolled under his bed, which caused him to curse and jump down._

_No, no no. He really couldn't waste any time here. He needed to fix the sling and get back outside._

_"What the hell are yah doin up there yah useless piece 'a shit?!" came the thundering growl of a voice downstairs, which startled him and made him fall back with a terrified, surprised shriek. His chest was heaving, he was breathing heavier and faster by the second, eyes opened wide and body shaking with fear. He'd failed to hear his father's return. No door slamming, no car engine, he hadn't heard anything, so how could the old man be back?_

_"Daryl!"_

_He snapped his head to the side, trying to find a way out of here but of course, he was on the second floor, and the stairs were the only way out. The stairs that were now creaking under the weight of his slightly obese father. Daryl searched his room in panic, trying to find a place to hide but of course, there was nowhere to go. His father already knew his hiding place inside the cupboard, this would be the first place for him to go look._

_More creaking of the stairs, and then he heard the soft, sickening chuckle that made him want to rip his ears off._

_"C'mon. I know you're in there yah little brat. Be a good girl and greet your old man. 'm home now, y'know. I damn hope yah missed me, yah know what happens if yah don't…"_

_"No" Daryl gasped and got back up on his feet, wincing at the cracking of his abused ribs. He then started running, to get to the only refuge and place he had left, that tiny bathroom he shared with Merle and that connected their rooms. His heart was pounding heavily in his chest, more than afraid of what he knew was about to happen as soon as his father opened the door to his room. So he ripped the door open, trying to flee through Merle's room, Merle, his big brother who wasn't there to protect him. Again._

_But the moment he opened the door he was blinded by some bright light, which caused him to squeeze his eyes shut with a surprised gasp. Then he smelled it - cigarette smoke. Alcohol._

_When he finally opened his eyes again he was surprised to be standing right in the middle of the bar - Merle's biker club - with all the guys staring at him. Ziggy, one of his brother's rougher and meth addicted biker friends was standing by the pool table and eyed him head to toe, only to start grinning as he walked over to him, stick still in his hands._

_"Well look what the cat dragged in" he said and Daryl had a surprised look around, back at the door, but he couldn't see his room anymore. All he saw was Merle's bike with the others, reflecting the shine of the streetlights. It wasn't day anymore, he was staring out of the club on a mild summer night. And when he looked down he noticed that he was no longer so fucking small and fragile, he could see his familiar tanned and dirty, muscular arms, the dirty jeans and jacket he was familiar with. He wasn't a kid. And his father was nowhere in sight._

_"I thought we made ourselves pretty clear" Ziggy stated and placed himself right in front of Daryl, to block his path and keep him from entering the club. The hunter just raised his head to look the man right in the eye. "What?" he snarled, really not getting it, what the whole thing was about. How the fuck had he even managed to get here? Other members of the group were closing in on him, some of them grinning, others looking pissed, some of them holding beer bottles, pool sticks, smoking cigarettes, some of them even reaching for their guns._

_"Merle ain't here no more. So there ain't no need for us t'keep pretending yah welcome here" Ziggy stated and then suddenly shoved Daryl really hard, back towards the exit._

_"Ain't sayin it twice. Ain't no fags allowed in this club. Now get that pathetic ass outta here" he went on and then spat on the ground, right at Daryl's feet. The hunter clenched his fists and frowned angrily, because the remark pissed him off, because Merle was nowhere in sight once again, because he didn't get what the fuck Ziggy wanted from him. A couple of weeks ago they'd been sharing smokes and booze, even shrooms when he'd been in a real bad place. So really, what was up with that?_

_"Yah got a problem, asshole?" he growled and ignored the shoving, he walked right back inside and invaded Ziggy's personal space, already feeling the incredible urge to make the fucker spit his teeth out because no one touched him like that. Ziggy just snorted._

_"Don't be pretending shit. We all know yah fucked that guy. And y'all know the deal. God hates fags, so do we. Now get your ass outta here or we'll make you."_

_"Shut up, 'm just lookin for my bro. He's here, I know it yah piece of shit, his bike's right there!" he shouted angrily and shoved Ziggy back, and this was enough to send the whole gang over the edge. Within seconds they got into a fight, shoving, kicking and punching with, Daryl never letting go of the guy, punching him mercilessly, choking and trying to stab whoever got too close, because he was so furious, so beyond mad and angry, because no one was allowed to ever put a hand on him again. Those times of just giving in and not fighting back were over, whoever dared to hurt him or insult him, whether it was his Dad or some 'friends', they all would get just as fucked up._

_But he soon had to realize that even his anger wouldn't help him here, because he was getting mobbed by a whole gang of bikers, who kept accusing him of being some filthy nance, an abomination, someone who should die horribly for being so disgusting."Let's teach this lil fuck a lesson!" one of the fatter bikers that smelled like piss, vomit and alcohol roared within the chaos, and within seconds Daryl found himself getting thrown on the pool table, head pressed down as some started beating the crap out of him, until one of the especially fucked up bald neo-nazi pricks got the idea that they could use the sticks for something else, to rip his ass wide open, the way fags like him liked it._

_He wouldn't stop screaming, wouldn't stop fighting, and just when things were about to get really bad he finally managed to yank his head back up, to lift his body off the table as fast as he could, the paralyzing grip on him finally released._

Just like in his dream Daryl was actually really screaming himself awake, tossing and turning in his bed until he finally sat up with an abrupt movement. He was breathing heavily and sweating like he'd just run a marathon, and he had a hard time calming his pounding heart down so he wouldn't get a heart attack.

The hunter felt his chest, back and even his buttocks just to make sure, but everything was still in place, everything was fine. No one had hurt or violated him, there was no mob of yelling bikers around him, there was no father trampling up those stairs. Everything was fine, he was alone, still in Georgia but not in Sedalia or Barksdale, no he was in Woodbury. His father was dead, Merle was dead, all the bikers were dead. He had a new family, new friends, new…

Daryl let out a frustrated sigh and moved the hair out of his eyes. Now he knew why he'd dreamed about shit like that.

Connor. He had Connor.

Even worse. He'd fucked the guy. Pretty much at least. No wonder all the people in his head were blaming him for this shit, pointing fingers and all just because he felt so guilty, so angry. It had been the wrong thing to do. This wasn't how you honored your family, all of their values, his former friends' values. His dead friends. He'd practically been pissing all over their graves with that deed.

Fuck.

That stupid leprechaun was making him just as twisted. The whole insanity and crazy bullshit had to be contagious. He'd just done it because he'd been afraid of losing him. That's what he tried to keep telling himself. Now that Murphy was here he needed something to keep his friend with him, to trump the other leprechaun, like he was saying 'I got better candy, come over to me, let the little shit be'. Except that this hadn't worked as well. Connor had still left. Used him once more.

Daryl let out an angry, frustrated growl and turned on his side, staring at the wall there. And he'd fallen for that crap. Again.  
Let the Irishman use his loyalty and then watch him leave. Even worse- snuck out, that son of a bitch.

_He was the main reason why I never really did the whole relationship thing, actually. Just couldn't, I guess. I was too caught up with looking after and fussing over te little shit. All I ever had was a couple of encounters with a buncha ladies down at te pub, and that was once in a blue moon. Have a buncha beers, watch a couple 'a movies or go out on a date, then do the obviously necessary shit like fucking around._

Shit. He'd even heard Connor talk about it. He'd been warned. He'd seen and experienced all of that first hand. How obsessed the guy really was when it came down to his brother. He'd seen him fuss over Murphy, heard him talk about all the shit he wanted to get better at just because of Murphy. And then the 'relationship' thing, he'd walked right into that trap, stupid that he was. Drinking together. Watching movies together (like in Augusta), fuck around.

The guy was such a fucking asshole, really. He couldn't believe that he'd fallen for that shit. He supposed that he'd been too naïve, too stupid, because it was well true. He was pretty much a virgin in that regard. Yes, he'd fucked around, but he still didn't know shit, didn't have enough experience, and he was desperate and frustrated. Which made him vulnerable for that kinda shit, easy even. It was easy for him to fall for someone and give in once he trusted someone enough, simply because he'd received so little love in his life that he was craving for it now.

It wasn't like he wanted to throw himself at everyone and everything, most of the time he just kept it to himself, in his thoughts, never speaking it out or acting on it, but this time he'd done it, and it had been completely useless. He really hated Connor, thought that he was the biggest dick in the universe with his egoism and fanaticism, but at the same time he utterly loved the guy, considered him his best friend, never wanted to let him go. He blamed it on the asshole's Irish charm. God knows, maybe the leprechaun had even bewitched him with some Irish weirdo crap, with a gold nugget and pot or something.

He didn't know, he didn't wanna know, and he sure as hell didn't want to find out. Just like before he was going to pretend that nothing had happened. He was Daryl Dixon. A strong survivor. The last standing member of the tough as balls Dixon family clan. He wouldn't let his stupid feelings get hurt with the Connor fucking and leaving him thing. No, he didn't have any feelings anyway. Didn't need them.

What he needed, what mattered, was food on their table, safe walls, shelter for the kids and his family. All that mattered was survival. The only thing that was allowed to hurt were physical wounds like his broken rib. Daryl clenched his fists as he felt determination grow in his chest. Damn right he wasn't going to ponder on this.

He got up with a grunt and then got dressed, having a look outside the window where he could see the sun rise above their town. Woodbury was quite busy already. He figured that it wouldn't take him too long to get himself distracted. Maybe he could help with the supply run, go hunt or help with the walkers by the walls. He took a deep breath and then told himself a final thing on the issue.

 _It happened._ _You fucked the guy. You finally got to screw someone again so it's totally cool. You never asked him to stay. You asked him to fuck off just like you always do. You were the one to stop it, to end it and leave it be like that. Only gays stay together after fucking. You ain't gay. Neither is he. It's the apocalypse, you're hideous enough and won't ever get ass anyway, so you took the opportunity and he helped you. Cos that's what friends do. No getting used. More like mutually using each other. Getting through tough times together. That ain't gay, it's called being very good friends who ain't ashamed of things like that._

Daryl then breathed out and nodded. Yep. That's totally how things were. Daryl Dixon, tough motherfucker. Back in business.

* * *

He did cross paths with Connor outside, on his way to the storage house, but the both of them just acknowledged each other's presence with a simple nod. It obviously looked like Connor felt guilty because honestly, the guy looked like shit, like he hadn't slept at all.

Part of Daryl thought that it served him right, but he decided not to bring the topic up at all. To him, nothing had happened. End of discussion. He was busy, and he was also pretty damn sure that the guy was super busy with that annoying little shit he called his brother anyway.

So he just walked past Connor after that nod, not saying anything, ignoring the Irishman's obvious attempts to start talking and slowing down. But Daryl kept his pace and wouldn't turn around, he just kept walking and then entered the storage room on his own.

Maybe he felt a bit shitty about it now because he usually never missed the opportunity to talk to his friend, be with him, but he didn't want that right now. He was too proud to give in. Men didn't give in. Merle had once asked him if his balls were still attached, and damn right was he showing that now with this simple gesture.

He managed to get some food but noticed the lack of supplies once more. Yesterday's 'party' had consisted of nothing much to eat and little to drink, with his deer being the highlight of the night. But now they were back to it, the obvious lack of eatable things, and since Rick and Hershel's new garden and mini 'farm' in a backyard of one of the houses wasn't fully functioning yet he just knew that they needed to do something about it.

It didn't take too long and he could see their leader in a corner together with Sasha, Maggie and Glenn and walked right up to them, eager to get a task and forget about everything else.

* * *

"Murph.." he heard the distant voice say, but Murphy just growled and adjusted his pillow, to bury his face deeper inside it.

"Murph…come on" the voice insisted for a second time, but just like before he refused to open his eyes.

"Go fuck y'rself" he mumbled and tried really hard to cling to that blissful state of sleeping and dreaming about random, weird shit, but it was already too late now anyway. He could already feel himself wake up because of the constant nagging, and this time he could also feel a gentle hand on his back, accompanied by a soft chuckle.

"C'mon ye grumpy little shit. 's time ta wake up. I brought ye something t'eat."

He finally recognized the voice, although it had take him a bit to remember stuff, associate the voice with familiar faces and memories. Connor. Of freaking course. He had a brother now. A fuzzy asshole of a brother even, ripping him out of his sweet sleep and blackmailing him with food. Murphy's stomach automatically grumbled loudly at the thought of this, which only made him even grumpier.

"Ugh, fuckin hate ye" he wailed quietly, because he was really pissed at his brother for waking him up. Mornings were usually the worst part of his day, simply because the headache was really bad, because it took his eyes longer to adjust to the sudden brightness of it all, and also because it took his abused brain some time to adjust to his surroundings, to let everything settle and associate things he'd already experienced and seen with the things he was experiencing and seeing now.

He eventually turned on his back and rubbed his eyes with a grumpy rumbling sound.

Connor just waited patiently by the bed, canned fruit and a water bottle in his hands. He tried really hard not to take Murphy's latest remark personal. His sibling had always been like that, not a morning person, grumpy and sleepy in the morning, and he'd said far more cruel shit back then without ever meaning it. Connor figured that it was pretty much the same now, but things had changed between them and his guilty mind just took these words personal by default, the dark and evil demons whispering in his ear already.

_He hates you cos you're the reason he's probably in pain and has trouble waking up. You did this to him. You hurt his head. You did this._

"The fuck is tha" Murphy mumbled, snapping him out of it and making Connor look at him. The younger MacManus was blinking rapidly as he tried to adjust his sight, he also wouldn't stop rubbing his right eye as he tried to get this one going as well. He didn't just ask Connor what those cans were because he couldn't see the letters or read them anyway, he also asked because he was really confused by the fact that someone would bring him breakfast to bed.

He vaguely saw that Connor was smirking at him. His sibling raised the two cans a bit to read the inscriptions.

"Woodbury's finest five star meal. Canned peaches, canned pineapple. Canned cans. In cans. Plus, stylish green water with don' even ask me what the fuck that is in there."

Murphy snorted and moved his blanket out of the way.

"How 'bout fuckin corn flakes, nutella, cigarette 'n beer instead, got any of that Mrs Marple?"

Connor chuckled and handed him the stuff when Murphy reached out for it.

"Sorry, no can do right now. Apparently, we're running low on supplies. They gotta go on a run first. Fayetteville. Might've some of that shit there, then" the blonde said and sat down on the bed to make sure his sibling would start eating. Murphy had some trouble with the lid and Connor only just noticed how bad his sibling's coordination really was. Especially in the morning. The older of the two twins pressed his lips together and gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to step in and help his sibling. But he knew Murphy, and most importantly how much his sibling really hated all his fussing over him.

His twin needed the boost of confidence sometimes, needed to figure shit out on his own. Which had been the reason why he had let Murphy fight that Russian all on his own back at McGinty's, where he had kept their friends from helping his sibling despite the fact that the latter had been beaten and tackled down. This moment right here was just like that, he knew that he needed to let Murphy do this on his own, despite the fact that he hated it, despite the fact that this was his fault.

Except that Murphy cut his finger during his attempt to get rid of the can lid. The younger MacManus hissed and cursed and tried to suck on the finger to stop the bleeding, and this was enough to make Connor snap out of it. He reached out and tried to grab the can, completely freaked out from one second to the next. The thing had fucking sharp edges, and Murphy had freaking cut his finger. He was halfway there when Murphy snatched the can and clung to it, holding it out of his reach.

"Fuckin don't" he spat, suddenly extremely angry. "Yer worse than a fuckin mother, Jesus" he growled and then finally managed to open the can on his own, whereas Connor just stared at it, completely frozen in place.

He didn't know why he was so freaked out from one second to the next. Before this whole apocalypse bullshit he'd been pretty much a mother hen as well, but not like that. Superficial wounds on Murphy had never mattered to him, he had never in fact cared that much about them. Hell, sometimes he'd even inflicted them himself, during one of their rare fights or even fist fights, when he'd thrown a bunch of things at Murphy and accidentally hit him, or punched his guts and inflicted faint bruises because the little shit could be so annoying sometimes.

His caring had been a bit healthier back then. Healthier and a whole lot manlier. He'd raised Murphy like that, only stepping in when things got too bad, insisting that his sibling did shit himself if he had to, that he would be just as much of a decent fighter as him. But now, from one second to the next, everything was so different.

One cut, a bit of blood, and his obsessive caring was up to the max. Everything freaked him out, every little bruise, danger or cut made him fear that he could lose his brother once more, lose him to a pool of blood. That day in Boston had truly traumatized him, because up until that day he'd never truly believed that he could possibly lose Murphy, that his beloved twin brother could possibly die.

He'd been foolish before that day, almost crazy even. Jumping off a roof with Murphy. Running and gunning into crowds of mobsters without real cover. Letting people shoot at Murphy, letting them shoot Murphy back in New York. Crazy shit. Never in a million years would he risk anything like that now, because he'd lived through the horrors of losing his sibling, of thinking he was really dead.

The rational part of his brain knew that it was stupid, he was even laughing at himself because he was completely overreacting because of one tiny cut, but he couldn't help it. He just sat there, frozen in place, staring at Murphy's bleeding finger as his sibling examined it and then sucked on it to get rid of the little blood. The cut wasn't even that deep and Murphy soon started eating, not giving a shit about anything and slurping on the can to drink some of the peach juice.

Murphy noticed the look on Connor's face, but decided not to say anything. Truth be told, he wasn't too sure if he was seeing the right thing or just imagining shit. Because even now he still couldn't really see all too clearly.

"Peaches and pineapple though?" he asked instead, examining the other can to kind of change the topic.  
Connor swallowed hard and then finally snapped out of his state.

"Aye. 's all we had left. They're rationing stuff now, 's one can each per morning. They also got some corn left, but that shit's yucky. Ye need lotsa vitamin C.  
Fruit's healthy."

Murphy kept eating but frowned a bit. The canned stuff didn't exactly taste any better, but he certainly wouldn't say no to it. He'd eaten far more disgusting and half rotten stuff during the past year, the hunger made him eat anything now. After chewing for a bit he finally picked up on one detail.

" _One_ can each" he noticed and Connor nodded with a smirk.

"Aye. Kinda stole that one. Just one can ain't exactly much, and I can't exactly assure ye that Daryl's squirrels and animals taste any better or last for everyone. Yer too skinny right now. Better safe than sorry."

Murphy froze and glared at Connor.

"Ye stole somebody's ration fer me" he asked in disbelief and Connor just stared at him for a while.

"Fuckin relax, alright" the blonde growled and shifted a bit. "I didn't exactly _steal_ it…"

"Don' fuckin say 'borrow' or 'm gonna shove tha can up yer arse. What the fuck, Connor. Seriously I don' want shit from ye just cos ye think ye gotta fuss over me since I _might_ be yer little brother and 'm seriously growin sick an fockin tired of yer fuckin…"

"Hey, shut it!" Connor roared and gave Murphy his angry pointer finger.

"One - You are my fuckin little brother and two - I didn't steal it, I…"

"You just said ye kinda stole it!" Murphy protested but Connor just raised his voice and kept talking.

"I didn't steal it, 's my ration ye fuckin retard, alright?! Now shut it and eat yer fuckin meal" he finished the sentence and then kept glaring at Murphy, who was now sulking and brooding angrily. The younger Irishman kept eating his peaches and ignored Connor at first, even thinking about snapping at him to leave him the fuck alone for five minutes and not be such a freaking mother, but then he got kind of curious. And angry. He looked up from time to time, glaring at Connor who was now looking out of the window with that strange kinda look on his face.

"'m not gonna eat yer fuckin ration" Murphy mumbled, because it was just stupid.

"Yes ye are. Now keep yer fuckin trap shut'n eat."

"Well, what 'bout ye?" Murphy asked angrily and grabbed his fork tighter. If Connor really had always been like that then he certainly didn't understand shit, how he could've possibly lived this long with the guy without losing his shit because really, the whole fussing over him bullshit was driving him insane and made him angry. He was a grownarse man. All the people he'd met before had respected that. 30-something years that he was.

He'd been fine on his own, for pretty much one year when he hadn't really known about Connor yet. He'd kind of appreciated the freedom and independence until that day in Savannah when Connor had picked him up. Dragged him along with him, away from his group, locked him up in this apartment like a golden cage with pineapples and shit.

He tried really hard to forgive his sibling for what he'd done with the headshot and all, but things like that didn't exactly make it easy. Yes, he'd accused Connor and blamed him for leaving him alone back in Boston, but he certainly hadn't aimed for a reaction like that, that his brother seemed to try the exact opposite now. Never leave him the fuck be with all his caring.

He didn't want to eat his food, didn't want to wear his freaking clothes or sleep in his bed and get his last cigarette, his last beer. It didn't make him grateful, it made him angry, and it made Connor look like a fucking retard. He hated how it seemed to be so easy for his brother to be so selfless, to put him first all the freaking time when he was just as skinny, just as fucked, just as damn depressed.

"Already had breakfast" his brother just said, which made Murphy snort angrily.

"Aye, sure. Don't even need ta be yer fuckin brother t'tell that yer shite at fuckin lying" he growled.

"Well, then I'm just not fuckin hungry, all right" the Connor snapped back and then massaged the bridge of his nose.  
It was quiet for a while as Murphy ate on and watch his sibling brood.

"Ye look like shite" he finally said, noticing the dark circles under his brother's eyes and the wrinkles on his forehead.  
The blonde just chuckled and then looked at him with a smirk.

"Thanks, brother. Ye, too. We're twins, remember."

Murphy snorted and then managed a smirk as well, although he was still pissed. He finished the peaches after a while and then put the empty can on the bed. He took a sip on the freaky green water and put that down as well, only to try and get up.

"Hey, what 'bout those pineapples?" Connor automatically protested and tried to get the can to press it in Murphy's hands, but his sibling stayed out of his reach and shook his head.

"If yer not eating, 'm not eating it as well. It's yers, not mine" he answered and looked for his coat, still rubbing his eye and squeezing both of them shut frequently to adjust his sight. It was slowly getting better, but the headache was giving him a pretty tough time today if he was honest. But he tried to hide it, because he wasn't sure what Connor was going to do if he heard about that. If the guy was willing to starve himself for him he honestly didn't know what else he was capable of these days. He also didn't want to seem like a victim just because of some silly headshot that had happened a year ago.

"Murph, stop bein so fuckin childish. Ye gotta eat."

"I'm fuckin childish?" the younger MacManus exclaimed angrily and turned around to look at Connor, who was still offering him the can.

"Yer the one not eating cos 'a me!"

"I'm gonna eat fuckin later, alright? We're running low and there's not much left. I'm gonna join the supply runners t'day. Find new supplies and get my own food. But you gotta rely on what's left here fer now."

Murphy looked at his twin in disbelief.

"Yer joining the supply runners? I'm gonna come, too."

"No yer not" Connor snarled, staring at Murphy all angry and pissed, almost threatening him.

"Oh, fuck ye! If you say yer gonna get yer own food then I can do the same. I can feed m'self, Connor. Done that fer a whole year, and I certainly don' need you fer that now. If we're really running low on food then I might as well share that shit with others, too. Like all those kids out there, if we're rationing shit and you think ye'd rather get yer own food so others get t'eat more then I'm gonna do the same and give yer fuckin pineapples to real little ones who can't feed themselves."

Connor just glared at him, bandaged fist clenching, gripping the can tighter.

"Take the fuckin can, Murphy MacManus, or 'm gonna shove that shit down yer throat. I said ye gotta eat."

"And I said fuck yer pineapples ye fucking psycho!" Murphy roared and slapped the can out of Connor's hand, sending it all the way across their room. It was quiet after that, as both men stared at the dented can on the ground. Murphy instantly felt sorry for his behaviour, because he knew that his sibling had just tried to make him feel better, to make his life more comfortable in such a fucked up world. But that didn't change shit about how wrong it was, how someone honestly needed to snap Connor out of it.

"First yer letting the guy knock me out cold so ye can drag me along against my will, then ye slaughter a group of men like some wacko just cos they dared t'look at me the wrong way, then ye lock me up in a room and ferbid me t'leave house, and now yer keep me locked up from everything and refuse t'eat fer me? I get that yer sorry, I really do. And I already told ye that I'm forgiving ye. Just open yer fuckin eyes, cos this is crazy, Connor."

Connor slowly walked over to the can to pick it up and place it on the nightstand by the bed, almost tenderly compared to how tense his body was and how angry he looked.

"We're both immune, okay? No one's gonna attack me or kill me. And I wanna help people n'pull my own weight. Ye wouldn't believe the shit Keith's taught me during the winter. 'm good out there" Murphy went on, trying to reason with his sibling.

Once Connor was done with the can he walked over to the chair where he had put his jacket and equipment so he could put it on. He adjusted the leather jacket and then just stood there, back turned on Murphy.

"I'll be back in the afternoon. Don' do anything stupid and eat something when yer not so fuckin pissy anymore" he just said quietly and then walked over to the door, already reaching for the key there which made Murphy angry all over again. So the fucker was really going to join the supply runners, go outside, get his own food and risk his ass out there while he was about to get locked in this fucking apartment again.

"Is it cos ye think he's fuckin stronger than me?!" he yelled and clenched both his fists. Connor stopped walking and turned his head to look at him.

"Cos he ain't some fuckin cripple like me who can't shoot straight fer shit anymore? Is it cos of the fuckin crossbow and his fuckin showing off his guns? Huh? So maybe I am fuckin skinny, but tha doesn' make yer fuckin boyfriend any better than me! Ye might as well just say that ye don't want me t'come cos you'd rather go with tha fuckin redneck asshole of yers!"

"Don't you fuckin say that!" Connor spat and glared at his sibling, eyes wild and almost mad.  
He pointed at Murphy, the other hand still clenched to a tight fist.

"I spent months wishing you was there insteada him! He could never replace ye, and he never fuckin will, alright?!"

Murphy fell quiet right then and then, swallowing hard and just looking at Connor.

"Just don' do anything stupid" his twin just said and then left abruptly, leaving Murphy no chance to answer or escape. The door was already shut and locked, blocking his path and separating them once again.


	6. Falling

Getting out of Woodbury wasn't exactly easy. All the exits were pretty much blocked because there were so many walkers all around their town, which was why they couldn't keep their cars inside anymore. Just like Connor, Daryl and Murphy all the others had left their cars by the East Side of the town, down Sunnydale road.

And just like before they had to climb the roofs and houses to get there. Connor wasn't too surprised to see that Daryl had joined the supply runners as well, and he wasn't sure if he felt happy or uneasy about it. Sure, he liked to be with his friend and wanted to show him that he still mattered despite Murphy being there, and he certainly enjoyed whenever it got back to this, old times, going on hunting trips together, being together.

But at the same time he felt pretty uneasy about the whole thing because a) they had crossed a new line in their relationship and it was a bit awkward to continue the normal friendship stuff after getting intimate just the night before and b) said night was exactly the problem. He felt guilty because he'd just left Daryl like that, and although he wondered what his friend thought about that he was pretty much sure that the hunter was pissed at him.

Whether it was because of the 'awkward' part or the 'pissed' part, Daryl wouldn't exactly talk to him or look at him. And even if they wanted to talk, they couldn't do it right now because they weren't alone. Michonne, Glenn, Tyrese, Sasha and Taylor, one of the few soldiers who were left from the Governor's time in Woodbury, were with them to join the trip to the shopping center close to Fayetteville.

Many people were all around them, which gave them -no- opportunity to talk. Maybe it was a good thing, now that Connor thought about it. He knew that the whole talk would get nasty again, maybe another one of their fights which were getting more and more frequent ever since they had found Murphy. Connor supposed that it was a good thing that there was no chance for them to fight, because fights made it harder to cooperate and work together, which they certainly needed to do on this run.

There were other people they had to look out for, and Connor was also painfully aware of the fact that Daryl was no longer 'immune', which meant that the walkers were a bigger threat once more. So really. No time for fights, arguments and discussions. They needed to concentrate.

As they made their way across the rooftops to get to the cars Connor used the time to chitchat with the other people. He talked to Michonne for a bit, asked how things were going with Andrea since the Governor incident. Then he talked to Sasha and Tyreese for a bit, because they knew Woodbury better than him and he needed some more information on the walls. He wanted to take care of the problem as soon as they got back with the supplies, and although he wouldn't quite mention it they still seemed to get the picture.

Connor also really wanted to talk to Glenn, who seemed to be more nervous and moodier than usual. The Irishman still had to think about what the Korean had told him earlier this morning. He wanted to know if he could do something for the both of them, if he should go out and search more dangerous areas for useful stuff, but he figured that the member of their group surely wouldn't want him to spill that delicate information and let everyone know.

And it wasn't like he had enough time for that anyway, because then they'd already reached the stairwell that led them back to street level. It had been a while since they'd last worked together, because both Connor and Daryl had never joined a supply group since the prison incident. The hunter hadn't been allowed to do that because of his healing bullet wound, and Connor had refused to join them because he had tried to find peace in Woodbury.

But then Augusta and Savannah had happened, with the both of them getting a taste for the scavenging, hunting and killing once more. And just like back in the old days they took over their previous roles, with Daryl, Connor and Michonne walking ahead to clear the street and make sure that all the walkers were gone. It wasn't like Glenn, Tyrese, Sasha and Taylor weren't strong enough or even scared to do it, but the other three had always been the strongest with their individual skills.

Connor was still extremely valuable for this sort of thing because of his immunity, Michonne was far superior with her bodily strength (which reminded the Irishman that he totally had to ask her whether he could join her daily workout routine) and Katana, and Daryl, with his expert crossbow and bowie knife techniques, the total badass of the group, that went without saying.

Luckily there weren't too many walkers down here, on this side of the town, which made it pretty easy for the whole group to get to Rick's pickup truck and their group vehicle, the ugly green 'bean' Hyundai. Daryl shot two walkers with his crossbow and retrieved the arrows like an expert, Michonne beheaded a fat walker in the middle of the street, and Connor stabbed a skinny walker that had once been an old grandmother in the back of her grey head when he saw her stumble about between their cars.

 "Well, that's a great start then, innit?" he asked and sniffed as he wiped the blood splatters off his face.

He turned around to look at the rest of the group, the people who were now forming a circle around the cars.

Sasha nodded and adjusted her rifle as she turned her head to look at each one of them.

"Okay. We'll take the two cars, make our way to Fayetteville on the 85. Daryl, you put the gas inside the Pickup truck. Take Glenn and Connor with you. Ty, Mich and Taylor, we'll take the Tucson, we'll be right behind you. Remember, no speeding, no risky driving. Last time we went to this mall all the roads were clear. The parking lot right in front of the Big Spot should also be clear by now. Ty and I put up a boom box last week to lure all the walkers away. Good luck."

* * *

"You're pretty chatty today" Glenn noticed after about ten minutes of driving. Connor was steering the car down the road, occasionally having a look in the rear view mirror, not only to check on the other car but also to look at Glenn when the Korean started talking behind them.

It was pretty true, no one had said a word so far, although Connor had been thinking about trying. Daryl was sitting right beside him in the passenger seat, one foot rested on the dashboard, arm leaned against the window and staring outside. Connor smirked a bit when he saw his friend, although he still felt pretty shitty about the current state of their 'friendship'.

"Aye. 'specially this fella right here won't shut up. Seriously, Dar, let other people talk fer once."

Daryl snorted and wouldn't answer right away, but he eventually did.

"Did yah seriously just call me fuckin ' _Dar'_?" he asked in disbelief and frowned angrily.

Connor had never really given him any nickname, he'd always been Daryl (or 'Murphy', which still made him want to punch the guy) or sometimes Darylena (which also made him want to punch the guy because this had been Merle's nickname for him). It made him feel sick that the asshole next to him would start with that shit now, after they'd pretty much fucked. Like they were some freaking couple now or something, which they certainly weren't.

It didn't just make him feel sick but also angry, because he thought that it was pretty pathetic and sneaky to start that shit now, like he was trying to schmooze him, make him forget what kind of asshole he'd been to him. But of course Daryl wouldn't forget. He was still pissed at Connor because of yesterday night.

Oh what he'd give for Glenn to leave the car or never even be here, so he could call Connor out on this bullshit right away. Part of him even wanted to confront his friend _with_ Glenn being there, with Glenn hearing it just to embarrass Connor, point a finger at him, let the whole group know that he'd done some gay shit although he was supposed to be oh so religious. The only problem was that it would label him just as much, because he'd been involved after all. So he decided to keep his mouth shut and talk about it as soon as they were alone.

"Well, why the fuck not? If I gotta be leprechaun, then you can be fuckin Dar."

"I ain't. Name's 'Daryl' and nothing else. Now shut up and drive. Leprechaun."

Connor sighed and smirked.

"All right. Dar."

Glenn chuckled behind them and Daryl used the time to punch Connor's thigh first with an angry '"Stop", only to turn his head and look at the Korean.

"You, too" he warned and then relaxed a bit. He shifted until he sat in a comfortable position again and decided to change the topic and do what Glenn had suggested, because it was true, the silence between them was too conspicuous. He didn't want anyone to know about what had happened, didn't want anyone to figure it out, and he certainly didn't want to let the Irishman make it worse. So he started talking about the supply run.

"You ever been to this place before, Glenn?" he asked and their friend looked up.

"Hm? The big spot? No. Andrea, Michonne, Ty and Sasha went there last time to check it out. But they had to leave because there were too many walkers. They said they've set up some pretty good distraction though. Place should be fine today."

"They still only got that one scavenging group?"

Glenn nodded.

"Yeah. There's not exactly many volunteers left for that kinda job. Sasha and Andrea have been trying to recruit some more people, but the others don't want to leave after what happened last time."

Connor looked in the rear view mirror and decided to stop it with the whole joking now.

"Well, Daryl and I are back now, and 'm pretty sure we're both gonna join yer group. I'm done with the whole hiding in the church thing. 'm gonna help. Don't worry.  
We're gonna keep this place going 'n everything's gonna be just fine."

Daryl chewed on his fingernail and nodded, although he hated to agree with his friend right now.

"Yeah. And 'm gonna go out again. Hunt some more food now that my shit's all healed up. Maybe we can even go out, find more people. There's gotta be more survivors. We met a bunch of people on our trip to Augusta."

Connor snorted.

"Y'mean crazy people?"

Daryl turned his head to look at his friend.

"What, like your bro? Sure. Real nutters."

"Fuck you."

"How did you find him anyway?" Glenn interrupted their little scuffle and made both Connor and Daryl look at each other. They'd still kept pretty much quiet about what had happened in Augusta, what they had found, how close they'd really been to finding a cure. And maybe Connor felt more and more guilty about lying, but before he got the chance to answer Daryl spoke up.

"We found clues inside that old hospital of theirs. Some old hobo saved us from a gang, told us about this other immune kid who left the city 'couple of weeks earlier. We found a lead, saw mentions of Savannah all over the place and headed that way" he answered, which wasn't exactly lying, he just kept some important information from them. At least until the both of them could come up with a decent plan, whether they should tell them about the 'cure' or not.

Because both Connor and Daryl were on the same page here, maybe Connor more than his friend. They weren't sure how Rick was going to react after he'd nearly given Michonne to the Governor for the sake of the group. And although Daryl hated Connor right now he still didn't want him to die just because of some stupid cure.

"Aye. Bob told us 'bout him. I wonder how that old fella's doing. He was nice" Connor said and thought about the old man for a moment, the Grandpa version of Daryl.

"I thought the hospital was completely overrun with walkers?" Glenn asked then.

Connor and Daryl looked at each other once more, and this time it was Connor who spoke up.

"Well aye, it was. But didn't exactly matter t'us then. Walkers started attacking Daryl just two days ago. He was fine before that,and shit hasn't changed fer me so far."

"Right" Glenn said and seemed to let go, but both friends still felt pretty uneasy about the whole thing. They certainly didn't like it whenever people asked them what they had been up to during their travel, not just because of the whole cure thing, but also because of all the things that had changed between them.

Connor and Daryl looked at each other a little while longer, with the Irishman somehow trying to start a silent conversation, an apology, a peace-offering, but his friend just snorted and looked away. Connor did the same with a sigh, fixing his eyes on the road for a bit but looking to their left every now and then. He'd been driving down this road a couple of times now, and it rang a bell.

"Hey, wasn't that the junction that led back t'the prison?" he asked a couple of minutes after they had passed the mentioned junction. All three men looked to the left, Daryl just answered with a grumpy 'hmhm'. Connor grabbed the steering wheel a bit tighter and nodded. He fixed his eyes on Daryl once again, because just like before the prison reminded him of their time before they had found Murphy.

They'd been fighting a lot back then as well, but it had been a bit easier back then. But still, last time they'd been in there Daryl had almost died after losing his brother from one second to the next. But despite those painful last memories he still felt the sudden urge to learn more about it for some weird reason.

"Eh Glenn, has anyone ever gone back there since we left?"

"Yeah. Rick, me and a couple of others. We made sure the place is overrun. Opened a couple more fences and doors to let more walkers in. We can't have any new groups of strangers settle there and start the war thing all over again."

Connor nodded.

"Aye, good thinking" he muttered, but it made him feel a bit weird, almost nostalgic. The prison had played a role in his 'recovery', had been a part of his and Daryl's friendship getting better (just like the suburbs and fire station of course), it had almost felt like home before the 'war'. So hearing that the place was lost made him a bit upset.

"We should check it out every now and then. Make sure it stays dead" he said, but not just because he agreed with his group's idea, but also because he wanted to go back there himself. Because the prison had been the place where he had 'buried' Murphy. Burned their picture, but most importantly - buried his knife and rosary. The junction had reminded him that the stuff was still back there, and now that his brother was back he wanted to get it back as well.

He just didn't know when and how he was going to do that.

* * *

It didn't take Murphy long to pick the lock. He'd done it before and truth be told - he was also pretty sure that Connor hadn't even been trying that hard to keep him locked up. He was sure that his brother had known that he couldn't keep him locked up forever, he'd just been keen to keep him locked up long enough so he couldn't follow the supply runners.

Connor had certainly accomplished that, but Murphy was far from giving in. Maybe he couldn't join them, but no freaking door was gonna keep him from doing a little exploring himself. He'd been pretty pissed at Connor for leaving without him, but now that he thought about it he came to the conclusion that maybe this was the best thing to happen to him ever since he had managed to get here. His brother had left the town by now, he was pretty sure of that, which meant one important thing - no one was there to fuss over him like he was some freaking child, no one was there to watch his every step and wrap him in bubble wrap to protect him from 'danger'.

Just like the day before, when he'd picked the lock for the first time, Murphy felt pretty mischievous by now. So maybe Connor thought he was weaker than this stupid redneck of his, and maybe he thought that he couldn't take care of himself, but -he- was the one to pick the locks, he was the one to screw the orders. Har-dy-fucking-har.

He wasn't sure if Connor had told anyone about the him being locked up thing, but the truth was that he didn't even care. He was a grownarse man and no one in this town could tell him what the fuck he was supposed to do or not do. So he used his new freedom to roam the town once more, to check out the buildings in broad daylight, he even chitchatted with some people to get more information.

Although some people didn't seem to trust him others were pretty keen to talk to him, simply because they were so curious about his 'miraculous' survival. One of those people was the kid that apparently belonged to their 'leader' Rick. The boy was sitting on a window sill of one of the former shops and watched him walk by. Murphy greeted him with a nod but didn't exactly know what else to do or say, simply because he didn't really know the kid. But the boy made it easy for him, because he started talking first.

"You're Connor's brother, right?"

Murphy stopped in his tracks to turn around and look at the black-haired boy, who was wearing a Sheriff's hat and held a gun in his lap.

"And yer Rick's kid, right?" he asked back, since he figured that this was pretty much their way of greeting each other.   
The boy nodded and eyed Murphy head to toe. They hadn't quite seen each other yet, because the boy had not been at the party yesterday.

"I thought Connor was crazy, but he's right. You look just like Daryl" the kid observed, which made Murphy roll his eyes in annoyance.

He hated how practically everyone in this godforsaken town had to bring up their resemblance.

" _He_ looks like _me_ " he growled and then tried to keep walking, because he could already sense that the typical questions were about to get asked _.  
_

_How did you survive this? How are the other cities doing? Did it hurt when you got shot? What was it like?  
_

"You take care of that hat of yers,alright? I got…things t'do. Bye,Rick's kid" he said and tried to finish their conversation, because he was eager to make the most of his free time and not waste it on countless chitchats that led to the same question and answer game over and over again. He started walking again, but just like before the boy wouldn't let go.

"You're immune right?" he asked and made Murphy stop once more. He remembered what Connor had told him yesterday, just before the party. They shouldn't talk about it that much. People weren't supposed to know, because they both had experienced the consequences of telling others. Augusta had tried to kill him over this freaking curse people called 'immunity', hunted him down and tried to open his head like a water melon.

So he'd gladly agreed with their plan to keep quiet. It wasn't like they hadn't mentioned it before. Yesterday when they'd got here they had kind of suggested it to explain his scars, but they hadn't -really- talked about it in detail. Almost avoided the topic, even. So he really didn't like the fact that the kid was asking him directly.

He turned around to look at Rick's son, who made it even worse because he kept talking.

"He told us you got bit. Before he shot you. And he's immune so…"

"He told ye tha he's immune?" Murphy asked with a frown, because he didn't understand why Connor had told the kid about it, only to tell him that he was supposed to keep quiet and avoid the topic altogether.

"I was there the night he got bit" the boy stated and Murphy chewed on his thumbnail.

"Oh."

It was quiet for a while, as Murphy tried to figure out how he was supposed to deal with the situation. He figured that it would've been better if Connor were with him, but he remembered that it had been his idea to break out of their apartment, which meant that he had to deal with this situation on his own, get to know people on his own and figure out whether he could trust them or not.

"What's yer name, little fella?" he asked and the boy continued to look at him in a way that freaked Murphy out a bit.

"Carl" Rick's son answered and Murphy nodded.

"Aye, Carl. Listen" he said and stepped closer.

"No one needs t'know about this then, okay? Con's right, I got bit and 'm immune. We both seem t'be like that I guess. But we don't wanna freak people out" he went on and let out a little melancholy sigh. "They usually don' take tha kinda stuff too well." He remembered the various reactions in Boston and Augusta. It had gotten pretty terrifying sometimes. The way people had stared at him like he was some sort of freak or a plague or something.

Carl nodded.

"I know. Dad told me. Only the group knows more about it" he reassured the Irishman, which made Murphy curious once more. He really wanted to get going, but he didn't quite understand the mechanics of this town yet, and since Connor wouldn't tell him much he decided that maybe he should find out on his own.

"Who exactly is in tha 'group' of yers then? I don't really get it" he stated and sat down beside Carl. "I mean I saw Connor interact with some people. More than with others, and those people also talked t'me and seemed t'know me but..I thought this was one community? I mean, this is a town, right?"

"He didn't tell you about the war?" Carl asked and checked his gun.

Murphy was actually a bit surprised and freaked out by how well the kid seemed to handle it, considering that he was still so freaking young.

"Whoa, watch out, kiddo" he warned when he nearly faced the muzzle. He didn't exactly fancy getting shot again.

"You should talk to Dad" Carl just said and ignored Murphy's request.

"Where's…"

He didn't get to finish his question, because right then they heard the scream.

Both Murphy and Carl looked up in surprise, in the direction of one of the walls were more and more noise could be heard.

"It's gonna tip over!" a woman yelled, and within seconds more and more people were running up and down main street.  
Some were running away from the noise, others towards it, with beams and machetes and guns.

"Dad!" Carl shouted and jumped up, just like Murphy, who cursed loudly and watched the whole scenario in horror. He couldn't quite see everything because of the angle he was standing in, but he still caught glimpse of the shaking and moving school bus, which they used to support Woodbury's walls and perimeter. Except that this one was giving in despite all the support beams that were already there.

"Fuck!" Murphy cursed and moved, only to reach out and push Carl back when the boy tried to come with him.

"No, stay back! Get inside with te other kids!"

"But I can…"

"I said no! Stay back, 'm gonna find yer father!" Murphy roared and shoved Carl once more, only to start running towards the wall. He couldn't just hear the creaking of metal and the groaning and moaning of countless undead of the other side, now he could actually really see how much the thing was shaking, rhythmically, faster and faster, getting more and more momentum. Murphy knew that it was only a matter of time until the bus would tip over, bury the people who were trying to keep it steady right underneath it and let the undead force inside their town.

He could see a bunch of people on top of the bus who were desperately trying to keep their balance and shoot some of the walkers from up there, but it was getting harder and harder for them. Murphy could see the blonde woman up there with the rifle. Rick, Glenn's girlfriend. Daryl's girlfriend and a whole bunch of others who tried to add more support beams, but no matter how hard they tried, the situation was getting out of hand.

"How many?!" Murphy roared when he finally reached the bus after some serious sprinting.

"Too many!" the blonde woman yelled back and fired her rifle once more, but Murphy couldn't see if she had managed to really kill a walker.

"Get the kids inside! Lock the doors! Henry! Watch the left side, they're breaching the wall! This is the third time in two weeks, why won't they stop?!" Rick roared in the mean time, instructing the members of their town as he tried to keep his balance and shoot some walkers as well.

Murphy stayed there and watched the bus shake for a couple of seconds more, his heart pounding faster and faster in his chest. The groaning, screeching and screaming was deafening by now and he remembered that there was walkers all around their town on the other walls, he remembered what Daryl had said yesterday during the party - there also was a herd pretty close by.

Fuck.

The other walls didn't seem to shake as much as this one right here, but it was getting _serious_.

He remembered the chaos he'd woken up to last year, back in Boston, when the quarantine zone had fallen.  
The pools of blood on the ground, the screams, the terror of that bloody night. And this seemed to repeat itself now.

Except that he wouldn't have that.

"Stop shootin! It'll draw 'em in and make it worse!" he shouted and ran for the ladder which had fallen off the bus.  
He put it back against it and then climbed up, although this was pretty hard since the thing was shaking really _bad_ by now.

"We gotta stop them!" the blonde woman screamed and the younger MacManus finally reached the top of the bus with wide eyes. There were -many- walkers down there. More than yesterday when they had got here. And this certainly was some serious deja-vu going on here. Quarantine Zone- The second. _Glimpses of Ashley falling off the wall and getting torn apart. He couldn't let that happen again._

The undead were reaching out for them, trying to climb the bus and grab their feet as they made the bus shake more and more. They looked like some freaky tidal wave, made of human, dead flesh, moving in an almost steady and constant rhythm. They were shoving at each other grabbing each other and even stepping on each other, but they just kept pushing and pushing. Whenever someone fired a gun and killed a walker there were about twenty more undead who got angrier and more riled up by the noise.

Even worse, because there were more and more bodies falling to the ground and the remaining walkers stepped on top of them they just seemed to climb up higher and higher, like the dead, rotten meat was some sort of natural ramp. Even if they didn't manage to make the bus tip over, if the others kept shooting them and if the walkers kept crushing each other apart they would just manage to climb over each other sooner or later, climb the walls and enter their town this way.

_They needed to do something._

"I said stop shootin!" Murphy roared and managed to take the blonde woman's gun to keep her from pulling the trigger once more. She stared at him with wide eyes, disbelief and fear more than obvious.

"Are you crazy? I'm trying to keep them at bay!"

"Don't ye see! Yer just riling them up with yer noise, there's more of 'em coming!" Murphy shouted and pointed at the abandoned part of Woodbury, where more and more walkers were staggering towards them.

"I know! But we can't…"

"Andrea!" Rick interrupted them and looked at them for a moment, still fighting for balance.

"He's right" he then said and Murphy nodded when their glances met.

"Stop shootin and get down. Try ta stop the bus fram tippin over" the Irishman said and stared back at the walkers.  
He took a deep breath and searched the bloody mob for a gap. When he found it he looked back at Rick and Andrea.

"I'll handle it" he said and then jumped.

* * *

They didn't exactly want to stick around for too long since they hadn't brought that many people with them, but they still decided to actually enter the mall, now that they were here anyway. The others had done a pretty good job with the whole luring walkers away from the surrounding area, because after checking the parking lot for a while they actually discovered that there really were no walkers around anymore. They could hear the sound of music in the far distance, but no groaning and dragging of feet.

After they had lured the last couple of walkers outside the mall to kill them they finally gathered around the entrance so Sasha could give them some final instructions. Connor was actually surprised that she seemed to be in charge now, although she had once been part of Woodbury. But he kind of liked the woman. She reminded him of Michonne, like she was a younger, friendlier and more talkative version of their friend.

"Alright. We go in, stay in formation for a sweep. After that you all know what you're supposed to look for. Any questions?" she asked and Connor just couldn't hold back a remark on that. He didn't know when he was going to get the chance to enter a big store like that again, so he raised his hand and spoke up to give it a shot.

"Aye, I do actually" he said and tried not to laugh or smile.

Sasha turned her head to look at him just like all the others.

"D'ye know if they accept credit cards in there? Cos I'm running kinda low on cash right now…" he asked and then started laughing.

He looked at Daryl and nudged his friend, and although the hunter tried really hard to stay pissed at the guy he just couldn't quite fight the slight smirk that broke through. "Jackass" he growled which just made the Irishman giggle even more. Daryl entered the store right then and there so he could finally smirk without anyone else seeing it.

"Very funny" Sasha said with a smile and then talked to her brother for a moment, only to enter the mall as well with a 'Alright, let's roll."

The whole group took a look around for a while, with each of them having certain things to look for. Even now they could still smell the disgusting stench of rotten food that had been fresh years ago, but they ignored that and walked right past it, to get to the useful stuff like canned goods, beverage and general supplies like batteries, knives, toilet paper and other hygiene articles.

Connor wasn't exactly surprised when he saw that Glenn disappeared between the shelves of the female hygiene section, since he remembered their talk about Maggie and their 'little problem'. The Irishman was supposed to look for batteries and other electronic devices they could use to produce light and electricity, so he spent some time in this part of the mall. He saw all the tv sets, dvd and bluray players, the countless coffee machines, toasters, laptops, stereo equipment and mobiles.

Once again things like that upset him, made him all nostalgic. These days felt like a lifetime away. Like he'd only ever seen them in a movie, like they had never even been real or important in the first plac. He couldn't believe that everything had been so easy once.

Lost someone or miss someone on the other side of the coast or hell, across the Atlantic? Grab a phone. Call them. Talk to them. Need to find out how to build an electric circuit to get some light? Need to find out how a car battery works/how to hotwire a car? Need to know where the next Wallmart is/where you need to go to get there or there? Need to know how to survive out in the open all by yourself? Just google it. Five clicks, and you know it. Wanna chill out and laugh some, eat something warm? Grab a dvd, throw it in your player and let your coffee machine do all the work for you.

And now? No internet. No mobile phones. No connections. No useful knowledge that's accessible within seconds. No relaxing. No fun time, no entertainment. All of this shit was just useless plastic. Dead plastic. A great movie collection was a waste of space. Stuff that had once cost them like 30$ was worth shit now. Even less. And a can of tomatoes that had once cost them a couple of pennies? Even twenty shelves of rare Clint Eastwood collectors editions or the whole inventory of Fort Knox was worth less than one fucking can of tomatoes. Even just one tomato. Oh, how the world had changed.

Connor tried to walk away at first, after getting some batteries, flashlights and cables, but in the end he had to stop, simply because he noticed a couple of old Polaroid cameras on one of the shelves. And maybe that made him think. The whole seeing the road back to the prison made him think.

He had burned his last picture of him and Murphy. Just a couple of months ago. He'd burned and buried their last memories, their friends, their old life. But Murphy was back now. They had a new life together, in this new world. So maybe it was time for them to fill them with new memories. Take new pictures. And since Murphy had some trouble with remembering things, then maybe this could help the both of them.

New memories. Nice things. And yet a little something of their old life. He grabbed one of the cameras plus some photo paper and put it in his bag, hiding it underneath the batteries and cables to keep it out of plain sight. He had another curious look around and only caught glimpses of the others, who were still busy looking for the stuff on their lists.

Like Taylor, who was currently searching the pharmacy for Murphy's pills and other medicine for Dr Stevens and Milton. The Irishman wanted to look for the stuff himself, bring his brother the medicine he needed because of him but the truth was that he didn't have a clue. He probably couldn't even pronounce half the names back there, and before he ended up bringing the wrong stuff he let the guy do it, because he knew more than him about the whole stuff.

Connor didn't have much else to do except for the whole exploring thing, and since he'd already taken 'useless' unimportant stuff with him he figured that a couple of Western dvds (some of his old favourites, fuck yeah) couldn't exactly do them any harm either. Ever since they had joined Woodbury and discovered that one tiny working tv and dvd player he'd always craved for decent movies during their rare movie nights, and since this was his first supply run for Woodbury he figured that he might as well change that shit as well, get the movies HE wanted to watch.

He then took some other stuff with him, things that were practically useless for the group but important to him. The most important things like new smokes (there wasn't much there, but all the walkers seemed to have kept looters from cleaning house, so there was _enough_ there and he took everything, whether he hated the taste and brand or not. Desperate times and all) then two bottles of booze (more would be too obvious), two or three old as hills yellow newspapers and random magazines (he needed new reading+ crossword material) and two or three packs of tshirts and jeans from the clothing department for Murphy.

Once he was done with his tasks and list he decided to visit Glenn, so he could talk to him and maybe help him.

* * *

Daryl just searched the store for a while, checked the other entries and doors to make sure that the others were relatively safe during their 'shopping trip'. He didn't exactly have a list, he only knew what they needed and wanted to grab a bunch of cans on his way back. He knew that the whole situation was still pretty dangerous, because despite the fact that they had killed some walkers and lured most of them away he still knew that they could never trust anything or think that a mission was safe and relaxed just because there was no sound or visible danger.

Just like the many times before he fell back into his old role as the group's watch dog, the guy with his crossbow who was there to cover everyone's ass and make sure they were safe. The mall was medium size which meant that they could relatively cover the entire thing with their number of people. He'd been to larger malls after the outbreak and this was one of the 'easier' ones, but he remained cautious.

Once he had made sure that all the other entries were locked and secured and as soon as he'd made sure that no one was screaming for their life he finally decided to do some searching himself. He grabbed a couple of cans and threw them in his own bag. He also took a closer look at the beverage section but figured that they would have to get the bottles with the cars, drive them around the corner, because that stuff was too heavy for them to carry it across the entire store.

He was also sure that Connor was probably the one to take care of the smokes and booze problem, so he didn't even bother going there. He helped Taylor with the meds for a while and covered him in the dark storage rooms of the pharmacy, and once he'd made sure that that job was done as well he finally headed for one last destination, one last thing he always liked to get whenever he went on a hunt or supply run - a souvenir for someone of their group. Whether it was a Cherokee rose for Carol or a doll for Judith, and this was exactly the point.

He'd missed little asskicker and wanted to get her some more baby food and playthings in case the others forgot. He just searched the mall for a bit, looked at the different signs, but he didn't exactly have a clue where to find baby stuff. He did find the female hygiene section and figured that women also meant babies, so he went there to check that out. He was even more surprised to see Glenn standing there, searching countless boxes of hygiene articles like tampons and sanitary napkins. Maybe it was a bit awkward at first, to be two guys in this part of the mall, but he tried to take it with some sense of humor.

"You on the rag or somethin?" he asked and lowered his crossbow.

Glenn startled with a gasp and dropped the box he was holding, and both men simultaneously tried to reach out for it and pick it up.

Daryl was even more surprised when he saw what was written on the box.

_Pregnancy Test._

"I.." the Korean stammered and quickly stuffed the box in his shirt. "Andrea asked me to look for this women kinda…thing" he muttered and then pretended to keep searching the shelf, but Daryl had already understood the whole thing anyway. He eyed Glenn with a little curious frown, and although it embarrassed him a bit he still kind of wanted to know, although he wouldn't ask Glenn directly.

"Ain't Sasha the one in charge of that kinda thing?" he reminded his friend instead, which made Glenn slow down and then look at him.

Both men looked at each other and Glenn swallowed hard, only to sigh and look down.

"Look. Please don't tell anyone. Not Rick. Certainly not Hershel" he pleaded and then looked at Daryl once more, who just stared back at him and chewed on his lip. After a moment of just looking at each other the hunter finally answered.

"Got no idea whatcha talkin 'bout" he said and looked away, pretending that he was overly interested in some old banner. He could see Glenn smirk a bit.

"Thank you" the Korean said and then eagerly stuffed some more hygiene articles for his girlfriend and the other women inside the bag. He was pretty eager to get away from this part of the mall then, and Daryl certainly appreciated that because he didn't exactly want the Korean to know about the baby stuff either. The hunter waited a bit longer until he had made sure that Glenn was really gone. He then slowly walked down the aisle and scanned the rest of the shelf for anything baby-ish.

It displeased him to see that this part of the mall wasn't about babies at all. It was all about women's hygiene and all sorts of body fluids, which certainly made him shiver a bit. He didn't know -that- much about the whole thing due to his upbringing and lack of experience with girlfriends and that kind of stuff. He'd never had a sister, had grown up without his mother, he'd only known and talked to like three girls prior the apocalypse, so the whole thing kind of freaked him out. A bit.

Or maybe the whole freaking out thing was an exaggeration, it just made him feel uncomfortable and truth be told, he actually envied Glenn for the balls he had to go and get shit for Maggie and the other girls like it was no biggie. Sure. He, Daryl Dixon the tough guy, could stab walkers, gut them, gut animals and kill them, he didn't mind not showering for weeks on end and he didn't bat an eyelash whenever he came across disgusting stuff like guts and shit.

But this? Supersized tampons that had the size of a freaking rolling pin and sanitary napkins that were the size of freaking surf boards?   
No. THIS was horror film material.

He slowed down a bit when he reached the section that was obviously for sex. Protection. Stimulation.

Condoms. Massage oil. Lube.

Daryl automatically tensed and gritted his teeth. This whole thing made him feel even more uncomfortable, but also pretty angry. Why the fuck did everyone and everything have to remind him of this shit all the time? Whether it was Glenn picking up a pregnancy test, his neighbours banging next door in Woodbury, all the new couples in Woodbury, Judith's existence or this stupid section right here.

Everything was like a big flashing sign that was pointing right at him saying 'everyone's fucking all around you and they're all mature about it, but the moment you attempt something like that you gotta fuck it up'. Part of him really wanted to knock the whole shelf over just to let go of his anger over Connor leaving like that yesterday, but he knew he couldn't do that because of the noise. So he just stood there with clenched fists and glared at the boxes, as if he was trying to destroy them with some laser eyes.

"Getting pretty confident there then, aren't ye" he heard Connor say and this time he was the one to startle. Daryl turned around to see where his friend was. The Irishman was standing at the end of the aisle, leaned against the shelf with his arms folded and a little smirk on his face.

Little to no light illuminated his figure because it was so dark inside the mall, but Daryl didn't even really need to see the guy's face to see that _asshole_ smirk of his. And of course, to make it worse, _he_ was the one standing right here, in front of fucking condoms and other sex toy kind of shit. Daryl just snorted and turned around to search the other part of the section, only to discover that the baby stuff was actually down another aisle opposite this one. _Behind_ Connor. Brilliant.

"'m looking for stuff for the baby" he snarled, because he didn't want to talk to the Irishman right now, and certainly not about _this_ topic.

"Well, unless ye plan on using tha stuff as slippery kid's balloons with cherry flavor I think yer in the wrong section here, fella" Connor observed, stating the obvious which just made Daryl even more angry. He walked past the Irishman and finally entered the section with the baby food, clothing and stuffed toys, but even now his friend didn't seem to want to let go. He shifted and followed Daryl with a sigh.

"Ye got a minute t'talk?" the blonde asked after a while, and although Daryl had already seen that one coming he still didn't like this question.

"Nope" he muttered and moved some stuff around to get a better overview of all the baby food and things. He grabbed a couple of bottles, a stuffed Giraffe and a baby rattle and stuffed it in his bag, maybe even a bit rougher than necessary. Connor let out a frustrated sigh behind him and although the hunter wasn't facing his friend he knew that the Irishman was back to the staring to the ground, rubbing his forehead and licking his lips in frustration.

"Jesus" the older MacManus muttered and took a couple of steps back and fourth, up and down the aisle.

"Really, how 'bout we finally get past that stupid fuckin act of yers and stop it with the constant back and forth. Yer whole lettin me in only t'shove me away an hour later's getting on me fucking nerves, and it's pretty fucking childish, alright? How many times do I have ta tell ye."

Daryl shoved one of the boxes back inside the shelf, to a point where he almost threw it, and then gave Connor an especially angry glare, because he couldn't believe that this fucking asshole was saying that, when _he_ should be the one complaining here.

"Wow, yah didn't mention this other Irish clown in two whole sentences. I mean this here ain't about _Murphy_ right now, so why'd you even wanna talk 'bout anything?"

"Oh shut the fuck up" Connor growled with an angry frown and turned around while he moved his hands through his messy hair. Daryl continued his search in silence, but his friend was far from done yet.

"I got my _twin_ brother back just _two_ _fucking days ago_ , Daryl. After not seein him fer more than a year, after I nearly fucking lost him t'some seriously fucked up and dangerous situations. So excuse the fuck outta me if I happen ta overreact because of his return and wanna make up fer all the shit I've done wrong and all the time I've lost because of that."

Daryl slowed his search down a bit because he was listening now, but he still wouldn't look at Connor.

"I mean what do ye fuckin expect t'see from me right now? That I don't give a shit about him anymore and don't wanna be with him? That I stay completely cool after the shit you've seen me do since the world went t'hell? D'ye seriously want me t'let him rot in a corner or be in another city just so I can stay with ye 24/7? So we can screw each other instead and fuck everything else?" the blonde asked angrily which finally made Daryl look at him.

The hunter was far too furious to answer right now. He had more trouble fighting the urge to punch Connor in his face because he was such an arrogant dick right now, who accused him of things HE was doing wrong, not him.

"I told ye a whole bunch of times that you still matter t'me, and that 'm never gonna forget what you did fer me during the past year. I told ye that I owe ye forever, and it's about time you get that in that thick head 'a 'd ye want? Should I go back t'the multimedia section, get a fuckin recorder, record it fer ye and put it on a loop til ye get it in yer fucking head? Just so you stop accusing me of not caring about ye since Murph came back? 'm trying really hard t'get this shit done right now, Daryl. t'manage that I can spend time _with the both of ye_ , but guess fucking what, I can't split myself in two and be with two people at the same time. So how about ye give me a fucking break and stop yer constant mopin ever since we found Murph, and work _with_ me instead?"

"I'm the one messing the whole thing up with all this pushin?" Daryl asked with an angry frown, but he wasn't yelling, wasn't shoving or fighting, he was past that kind of anger, he'd reached a far more serious kind of fury and anger, the one where he was too paralyzed to do anything but stare and tense up.

"Fuckin aye! I mean just like at ye right now! Or fuckin yesterday when we got back ta Woodbury! Yer the one constantly withdrawing fram me and not talking ta me. We had some good thing going until now. Ye were almost bearable before all this shit with Murphy, ye actually let me in. Halle-fuckin-lujah. And what do I get now? Back t'the fucking start. Pissed looks and a shitload of 'leave me alone's."

"Bullshit!" Daryl interrupted his friend. He finally dropped the rest of the baby stuff.

"This fuck up ain't my fault" he went on and grabbed his bag. He threw it over his shoulders, only to approach Connor until they were nose to nose and stared each other right in the eye.

" _I_ ain't the one who left yesterday" he stated and looked in Connor's eyes once more, anger and frustration still more than obvious. He then walked past his friend with his typical shoulder to chest bump which made the Irishman huff. And the hunter finally really understood his anger, why he was so pissed and why Connor leaving - although he had _asked_ him to stay- had hurt him so much yesterday.

Leaving.

That was the thing that hurt the most, that cut deep into his flesh, his soul. He'd been neglected all his life. With his mother dying way too early, with his father either abusing him or leaving town for weeks on end, with Merle being locked up in prison all the time with Merle disappearing in Atlanta and the worst part - Merle dying and leaving him _forever_. All his life the people who mattered the most to him had always left him in the end, never cared about him too much to actually stay, and Connor had done the same to him. During such an important moment, when he'd opened himself up. _That_ had hurt his pride. _Big_ time.

It was true that, most of the time he had done the pushing, the shoving Connor away, but when he'd finally been ready to move on, to give in, to stop pushing and actually pull and ask for someone to stay his friend had instantly destroyed that trust again, that hope, that courage. And he figured that the whole pushing away and keeping his distance was a whole lot better, because at least this kind of stuff protected him from getting hurt again, hurt like when he'd lost Merle.

Daryl kept walking but even now Connor wouldn't stop. The Irishman let out a frustrated snort and shook his head.

"I see, this is what it's about" he said and kept shaking his head, because he finally got it. Daryl had made it sound like it had been all about Murphy again, his jealousy, their rivalry, but he finally understood that it was actually about what had happened yesterday night. His friend kept walking and that just frustrated him more.

"Fuckin wait! Ye can't just drop tha bomb and not let me explain."

Daryl finally did stop walking and turned around with an angry glare and clenched fists. He really wanted to leave and not fight because Connor actually had a point there. Just like his friend he was getting sick and fucking tired of the constant back and forth in their relationship. But he needed to stay now because he was curious, because he really didn't get it, understand why Connor had left without ANY explanation.

Hell, he'd even taken this Murphy asshole as an explanation. Anything would've been better than this, really. Anything would've been better that that cowardly sneaking out after suggesting he was going to stay. So really, he couldn't wait to hear an explanation.

"I guess I just…kinda freaked out, alright?" the Irishman tried, which only made Daryl roll his eyes and turn around again.

"I said fuckin wait!" the blonde demanded and then already kept talking, because he understood that this had been a poor excuse.

"I mean we've talked about this shit before, haven't we? I told ye that I've never done this sorta thing before, and it's freaking the fuck outta me. Not just the gay category…"

Another angry eyeroll from Daryl, but Connor raised a hand to hush him.

"C'mon, 'f course that was pretty fuckin gay, alright. Don' patronize me or try ta tell yerself fuckin lies. We both know the definition of tha kinda shit, and we both were raised t'loathe it so it's kind of a culture shock that it actually happened, alright. And yes, fuck ye very much, the first thing I had t'do right away was go t'church and confess or else I would've lost my shit. I'm very fuckin religious in case you didn' notice" the Irishman explained and nearly stumbled over his words because he was talking so fast and heatedly. He pointed at the tattoo of the cross on his arm, grabbed his rosary and then craned his neck a bit to expose the other tattoo to emphasize the whole statement.

Daryl raised an eyebrow, because to him it still sounded like some poor excuse.

"Yah left cos yah had t'go to church. At three o'clock in the morn. Right. _I get it._ "

"It's not just that, alright?!" Connor said, a bit louder this time, which made both men turn their heads to check if anyone else was listening. And just like back in the alley Daryl hushed his friend angrily. _And he'd thought that the whole tampon incident with Glenn had been embarrassing, shit._

"I'm used t' leavin and goin back t'Murph after fuckin people, alright?" Connor whisper-shouted as if this explained everything.

" _I_ fucked _you_ " Daryl reminded his friend with an angry frown, because there was no way he was ever going to say that a freaking _guy_ had fucked him. Connor just rolled his eyes angrily and waved it off

"What-fucking-ever. Point is, I know 't was wrong and some real dickish move, but gimme a fucking break. Me head's screwed enough right now in case ye didn't get the fuckin memo last year. And t'cut to the chase - I never said that I'd be good at tha. I've always been shite at the whole lettin people other than Murph close t'me. Just like you, by the way. And yes, don't deny tha know, we both know what 'm fuckin talking about. Anyway. It's not a past thing with me. I just happen ta suck at having relationships and friendships when Murph's around."

"Well, no! Maybe yah suck at havin relationships'n friendships cos you're a selfish, arrogant dick and chicks were smart enough t'avoid people like you!" Daryl snarled angrily and shoved his friend, although he actually kind of enjoyed their bickering by now. His greatest fear had been that Connor had left because _he'_ d been terrible at the whole thing, but if the guy admitted that he was shit at it himself and had only left because he was used to that whenever relationships got more serious, then maybe it really wasn't THAT bad after all. Sure, that stupid Murphy kiddo was still in the picture and annoyed the crap of him, but if Connor was actually aware of the fact that he was overreacting and overbearing right now, then maybe there was hope.

The guy was right after all. It had been two days since they had found the kid. He remembered his reaction to getting Merle back. The stupid thing he'd done because of that, like when he'd left the group only to go back a couple of hours later. And truth be told - he could even consider himself lucky in this situation.

Contrary his beliefs Connor had actually stayed with him and not gone back to Boston (with the Murphy kid still being here, too, but oh well, this was the apocalypse, not 'make your wish'). The guy was here with him right now, he kept invading his privacy, kept annoying the fuck out of him, he kept wanting to talk to him, and he HAD come to him yesterday night, despite Murphy being there.

But still, he _wa_ s pissed at Connor for the whole leaving thing, he was pissed in general because Merle was dead and he had to share his friend now, and it took only one more sentence to send him over the edge once more.

"Oh fuck ye! And maybe I _had_ t'leave yesterday cos ye were acting like a fuckin virgin and loser and I wanted t'save myself fram all the embarrassment ye fuckin asshole!" Connor roared and shoved the hunter back angrily. And that sent Daryl over the edge because now he'd hit a nerve and he knew it.

"Fuck you!" Daryl yelled and shoved his friend once more and this time really hard, which made the Irishman's back connect hard with the shelf behind him. Connor lost his balance and fell to the ground, and for a split second nothing seemed to happen. But then something _did_ happen. Only the faint creaking sound and the rattling of items gave it away.

Before Daryl got the chance to react, pull Connor back up or run away the shelf suddenly stopped shaking and toppled over. Within seconds countless bottles, boxes, playthings and clothes fell to the ground and caused some deafening noise, then the shelf completely lost its balance and came crashing down as well, right on top of Connor and Daryl.

"Guys?!"

"What happened?!"

They could hear their group shout about a couple of seconds later, but the two friends were a whole lot more busy with trying to figure out what the fuck had happened. When the shelf had fallen Connor had been lying in a pretty inconvenient position, which could've caused some serious injuries. Daryl had seen it and reacted on instinct, not only because the whole thing had been his fault, but also because he didn't want to get his friend hurt.

He'd managed to throw himself somewhat on top of the Irishman to protect him from the collapsing shelf. Both Daryl and Connor could move and adjusted their positions with awkward groans. They turned their heads a bit to figure out what the hell had happened.

The shelf was lying on top of them. This was the bad part. It had made a lot of noise. Which also was pretty bad. But when they looked down on each other and moved some more they figured that none of them seemed to have managed to break any bones, necks or other body parts. They seemed to be doing just fine. This was the good part, and when they looked up once more they noticed how this had been made possible. The opposite shelf was still standing and had kept theirs from fully toppling over and burying them completely. There was some space, but still not enough for them to move freely and get the hell out of here.

"Son of a bitch" Daryl cursed and tried to move, lift the shelf up or do _something_ about the situation, but they were kind of stuck. Connor had a look around and tried to do the same thing, but he figured it out soon enough. They were going nowhere. They had to wait for their friends to find them, come over and help them out of here.

"Ye don't fuckin say" Connor still said and tried to stay angry and alert, because he was well aware of how dangerous the situation really was. They had made _a lot_ of noise in an abandoned neighbourhood close to a city. Other walkers would be here soon. But for some reason he still thought that the whole situation was incredibly stupid and funny, because they were covered with all sorts of shit and breathing white powder.

They were covered in freaking _baby powder._ Surrounded by fucking _stuffed animals_ when there were dead people probably staggering right at them, ready to tear them apart and eat them. How _absurd_ was that?

He tried to keep struggling and fighting, to continue both their own fight but also get rid of the shelf, but the harder he tried the harder it got for him to keep the laughter inside. Everything was fucked, there were dead people around them, his relationship with Daryl was a train wreck, Murphy was back, he felt beyond guilty because of his scars and yet here he was - apocalypse of the teddy bears.

Connor snorted once which made Daryl look at him in disbelief.  
The Irishman bit his lip hard but then another snort escaped his mouth and soon - laughter.

"Fuck" he giggled and tried to cover his eyes because this shit was so funny, but of course, he couldn't do that because he was trapped in a Daryl-shelf sandwich. Which just made the whole thing even funnier.

"How 'bout you stop laughin, asshole, and try t'move . This! Fucking! thing!" the hunter complained and tried to get rid of the shelf, moving with each word, but it just made it worse and worse for Connor.

"Well, looks like we got serial crushed" the Irishman said and really lost it this time.

He didn't even know why he had this sudden fit of laughter because really, their situation was DANGEROUS, impending doom and all, but maybe it was just that.

"Stop laughing!" Daryl roared and was still his serious self, the one to never give in, or rely on other people to help them, no, he needed to fix this himself. But Connor didn't make it easy for him. "Dude" the Irishman stated and managed to bury a finger in his friend's side because his hands were still trapped underneath the shelf and Daryl's body.

"I got ye lying on top of me with yer hair all white from all te fuckin _baby powder_ " he said and Daryl stopped moving for a moment to look down at him.

Connor looked back up and then snorted once more.

"'n Jesus fuckin Christ, tha faggy guy fram Teletubbies is trapped between yer shoulder and the fuckin shelf" the Irishman said and lost it half way through the sentence once more, and just for a second Daryl couldn't fight the tiny smirk either. "I hate you" he said and maybe he laughed ONCE, but right after that he got back to the whole shoving and moving, to try and free them, and after Connor had somehow recovered from his fit of laughter he finally tried to help as well.

Seconds later they could see the flashlights and hear the voices.

"Guys?!" it was Glenn. The Korean dropped to the ground a moment later and shone the flashlight right in their faces.

"We're alright, we're alright!" Connor responded and blinked a couple of times because the light was blinding him.

"How 'bout you move your asses and get this heavy son of bitch off us?!" Daryl roared, still beyond angry and furious because he was trapped.  
Once again he was a lot like a wild animal in that regard, which hated hated hated it.

"Man, you were lucky. If this thing had come down on you the wrong way" Tyreese observed and popped into view as well.

"Yeah, no shit!" Daryl roared and then Taylor and Michonne showed up on the other side of the shelf.

"Alright, let's move this bitch!" Taylor announced and then the whole group grabbed the shelf that kept Connor and Daryl trapped.

And what a feeling, really. Both friends were really happy to see the rest of the group, to be able to count on them and get saved. Daryl would never admit it or show it but out of the two of them he was the happiest, simply because no one had ever shown him that much companionship and compassion before the apocalypse.

Connor used the couple of seconds the other people were busy with the shelf to try and end their fight in the mean time.

"Eh" he said quietly, to keep the other grunting and shouting members of his group from hearing it. He buried his finger in Daryl's side once more to get his attention and made him look at him.

"I didn' mean that shit, alright? Ye weren't a loser. Just wanted t'make shit clear before we get outta here" he said, voice still a bit hushed and he certainly used the certain kind of intimacy and tight space there. He would've made that clear sooner or later anyway, with or without the shelf collapsing.

Daryl just stared at him for a short moment.

"Right" he muttered and shifted when he felt how the shelf was lifted off them.

"You're still a selfish prick" he growled and Connor grinned.

"Right."

They were just about to be set free when parts of the roof collapsed all around them and revealed countless rotting and moaning corpses that were raining down like hailstones.

"Walkers!" Sasha yelled, and all hell broke loose.


	7. Overrun

No matter how hard he tried - he couldn't make their situation any better. Murphy was hacking and slashing his way through the mob of undead, trying to get them away from the shaking bus and wall, but there was no stopping them. For every dead body that dropped to the ground there were already two more undead staggering towards the wall. More and more walkers were coming from all sides, exiting the alleys between the abandoned houses, walking down the roads, stumbling out of the forest that was close by.

The younger MacManus twin was breathing heavily by now, exhaustion eating away his strength and making it harder and harder to keep fighting the ones that were shaking the wall, fighting the ones that were trying to grab him. His immunity and its strange side effects certainly helped. But just like the many times before he noticed a few walkers that seemed to be smarter than the others, the ones that were almost picking up on his fraud, this trickery of being masked. It certainly wasn't like they really tried to attack him or bite him, but they were a little too interested in him, like drunks who wouldn't respect your intimate space, all sniffing and grabbing like unpleasant stalkers.

And unpleasant was the right word, because there were many things that made the whole fighting really hard. The smell was one thing. Being so close to a walking, rotten corpse was almost unbearable. The stench of rotting flesh and crusty, foul body fluids made it pretty hard for him to keep the few stomach contents (Connor's fucking pineapples) he still had inside of him. He was pretty sure that he would never get used to the smell, but this wasn't even the worst part. The most horrifying thing that made it incredibly hard for him to continue, that made him want to freeze right on the spot was the near.

The grabbing, the moans, the stares. Whenever his body connected with one of the undead he couldn't help but startle violently, his whole body tensing up and feeling the urge to flee, run away and get as far away from the walkers as possible. Even after one year of trying to cope with what had happened he was still helplessly exposed to the aftermath of that day in Boston. Flashbacks and echoes. With each contact.

_"MURPH!" Walkers, coming from all sides, cutting him off from his brother, who was running towards him with wide eyes. The endless killing, running and trying to fight his way out of there. The sudden harsh pull on the back of his shirt, the abrupt stop, the incredible and sudden sharp pain in his shoulder. Connor screaming "NO!" over and over again._

Murphy killed another walker with an especially brutal stab to his right eye socket and took a couple of heavy breaths as he wiped his forehead with an exhausted sigh. He hated it to be so close to the walkers, he was beyond scared and most importantly - they made him think about Connor. Not just because of the shot that had happened because of that day, but also because he knew what this sort of thing had done to his brother as well.

He shouldn't be here. Not just because the walkers still terrified him and traumatized him, but also because he didn't want to do this to Connor all over again. It was dangerous to be right in the middle of this undead crowd. And his brother was right - he shouldn't trust this whole immunity thing. Nobody should know about this. Connor shouldn't learn about what he was doing here right now.

The Irishman turned his head to have a look at the shaking wall of Woodbury and tried to make out how many people were really witnessing what he was doing. He certainly didn't like what he saw. Not just 'the group' was up there by now. Other people had joined them. People he didn't know, people Connor hadn't talked to yesterday. Strangers, who were fighting the walkers with long sharp sticks but who were still watching him with wide eyes, like they couldn't believe this was happening, how he could just walk among the infected and not get attacked.

One of the men seemed to be especially freaked out, the way he was staring at him like he was the worst monster of them all.  
Murphy swallowed hard and had to kill one more walker who was getting too close.

He certainly needed to get away from here. Out of here. Stop people from seeing this. But the shaking of the wall and bus was still alarming and getting worse still. _What was more important? Keeping people from finding out about his 'special abilities' because of that bite? Getting his ass away from all this danger just so he wouldn't upset Connor later? Or keeping the walkers away from the wall to protect Woodbury from getting overrun?_

He turned his head in panic and stabbed a bunch of walkers more, although he knew it was useless. He was just one person down here, trying to fight at least one hundred undead. The others were still trying to kill the walkers from up the wall, but once again Murphy only noticed the countless bodies on the ground all around him, in front of their wall. It was getting harder for him to walk around and get to other walkers because the ground felt like a minefield with all the butchered bodies on the ground. To him they were a constant danger of tripping over them or being unable to run away should other walkers decide to attack him. For the undead they were a useful tool, a natural ramp which provided them better and constantly higher access to the wall that was about to tip over.

It wasn't working like this. He couldn't stop them.

A loud gunshot startled him when Andrea and another woman resumed shooting once more because they were getting desperate. Murphy wanted to yell at them first, remind them of the noise they were making when an idea suddenly struck him like lightning.

Noise.

Noise attracted walkers. The undead who couldn't stay here, the ones he needed to get away from the wall.

"Get down and keep quiet!" he yelled as loud as he could and turned around to stare at the people on top of the wall with wide eyes.

"What?!" Andrea asked and looked back at him in horror, rifle still in her hands and aiming at another walker.

"I said get down and keep quiet! Don' let them know yer on the other side! I'll be right back!" he shouted and then started pushing and shoving his way out of this mess, away from the wall, towards the rear end of the herd of walkers.

"Murphy! Stay here! Get back I said!" he heard Rick shout but ignored the man. He knew that the guy was probably only saying that because of Connor, but the Irishman did not care about his orders. It wasn't like their leader could stop him, now that the walkers were between them and Murphy certainly used this advantage. He started running faster and faster as soon as he had fought his way out of the crowd and took a sharp right turn to enter the street he remembered from yesterday.

He really hoped it was still there.

* * *

He felt like he was in an action movie. It wasn't like he could really remember that many films, but it still felt oddly familiar. He sped down the road and almost drifted his way around the corner, only to stop the car for a moment. He had a look around and watched the scenario in front of him in both fascination but also horror. Parts of the metal shielding of the wall were already giving in and the school bus that backed up most of it was really shaking by now, to a point where it wouldn't take too much for it to reach its momentum and really topple over. And to make it worse - everyone had ignored his orders and was still on top of the shaking thing, stabbing and shooting around like there was no tomorrow.

It was obvious that those people were getting desperate. He was pretty sure that they must've thought that he'd run away from them.  
But running away had never really been his plan. Sure, he'd been eager to get out of this mess, but certainly not far away.

But far _away_ was exactly the point. Killing the walkers wasn't going to stop their little problem or make it better. Getting them away was gonna do the job. Murphy put in first gear so he could steer the car unto the street that led to their part of the down and then turned the vehicle around so he could approach the wall in reverse. He grabbed the back of the passenger seat and then accelerated, getting faster and faster as he sped down the road to come to their aid.

For just a moment he considered driving right into the blood thirsty crowd of the undead, but he figured that he couldn't crash the only car the had left here. And he certainly needed it. He knew that he probably shouldn't drive a car with his slightly bad vision but kind of screwed this state right now, because he couldn't care less if he hit something as long as the car kept running. He even hit a bunch of walkers on purpose when he finally reached the wall and then moved the window down so he could have a look outside and talk to the people on the wall, which was harder than he thought because once again some walkers were getting pretty brash and tried to get inside the noisy thing that was his car.

"Get down 'n stop shootin! They can't know yer still there! 'm gonna draw 'em away!" he yelled and locked eyes with Rick for a moment, who looked completely disheveled by now and stared at him with wide eyes. It took their leader a good minute, but then he finally seemed to get it. "Do as he says! Get down!" he shouted and started shoving at his people, desperate to get them off the bus.

"What?! Are you crazy?" Andrea shouted and tried to keep fighting, to keep protecting Woodbury, but then Rick already forced her to get down. Murphy finally had to climb back inside the car because the undead were really mobbing the car by now, slowly closing in on it, attracted by the sounds of the running engine. He knew he needed to hurry or else the undead would keep him from getting the car back outside the crowd, but this was exactly what he needed to do. He had a final look in the rearview mirror to check if everyone was gone and done shooting, and once he'd made sure that he was the only one left on this side of the wall he finally pulled his plan through.

He hit the middle of the steering wheel hard and continuously, making the horn howl and beep loudly with each hit.

"Come on ye motherfuckers! Move yer rotten fockin asses!" he yelled and slowly accelerated to keep the car at steady walking speed so he wouldn't lose the undead and keep their interest. He kept making that noise, honking the horn, yelling and shouting, trying to be as loud as possible. The younger MacManus had another look inside the rear view mirror to make sure that no one from Woodbury would start shooting again, and the sight pleased him a lot. The absence of people on the wall was one thing, but what made the whole situation even better was the fact that his plan was _working_.

Some walkers were still scratching and shoving away on the wall, but most of them, dumb brainless crowd that it was, were actually really following him. It certainly freaked him out yet again to see all the undead stagger after him, reaching out and baring dirty, rotten and bloody teeth like they were really trying to get him and bite him again, but right now the satisfaction was far more present, and he started chuckling with excitement because it worked, because those things were so terribly, terribly stupid. They had the attention span of a potato by the looks of it, like three year olds in a toy store. Like the moment they saw something new and shiny, the moment they heard something louder and more striking they completely forgot about the thing they had wanted before.

More and more undead were slowly turning away from the wall and started to stagger after his noisy car, attracted by the fuss he was making, their few remaining instincts telling them that were there was the most noticable noise there had to be something to eat. So they followed him and pretty soon the bus and wall was shaking less and lesser still.

Murphy chuckled even more and then even cheered.

"Holy shit" he giggled to himself. "I can't believe tha fuckin works" he said and then shook his head with a snort because really. The plan was so _stupid_ and simple, but it really seemed to work. The undead were coming along. Even worse, he even had to slow down to make it possible for the brainless crowd to really follow him. And they did. He was successfully leading them away from Woodbury.

* * *

"Walkers!" Sasha shouted and both Connor and Daryl snapped their heads to the right to see what was going on. They could hear the constant strange noise, the cracking and bursting of what seemed to be parts of the ceiling. It took a moment but then they could clearly see it, as one of the mentioned walkers fell to the ground pretty much right in front of them.

"Shit" they said at the same time and then looked at each other.

They could hear that the others were already starting to fight the walkers, there was some yelling, some gunshots and the breaking of glass, and even now the cracking and bursting of the ceiling wouldn't stop as more and more walkers started falling down. Since pretty much everyone from their group was busy fighting the walkers there was no one left to lift the shelf off of them, which made both Connor and Daryl furious.

"Move yer fuckin ass!" the Irishman roared and started writhing, as if trying to get both the shelf and Daryl off of him.

"'m trying asshole!" Daryl yelled back and moved just as much, placing his hands on each side of Connor's head to use them to do some sort of push up to get rid of the shelf. But the thing was _heavy_.

"Come on, be a fucking man about it and push!" Connor kept yelling because he hated being stuck, hated that he couldn't do anything about this situation when he could hear their people fight and scream outside. "I said I'm trying!" Daryl spat, angrier this time because once again the Irishman was getting on his nerves. He even went so far to move his right knee up as hard and fast as he could, burying it between his friend's legs and making the blonde gasp in pain.

"Ow, Jesus, you motherfucker!" Connor groaned but couldn't even shield himself from this foul abuse, so he just squeezed his eyes shut in pain and tried to roll to the side. And although their situation was pretty fucked right now Daryl still couldn't fight the smug smile that broke through. Because really, Connor didn't just deserve a kick in his nuts for his stupid pushing right now, but also for the thing that had happened yesterday.

"Be a fuckin man about it and help me with this thing!" he shouted but grinned, because he certainly liked how Connor was still writhing in pain underneath him. "I fuckin hate you, evil bastard" the Irishman groaned and was just about to kick or box back when someone interrupted them.

"Guys?!"

They both turned their heads only to see that Taylor was kneeling beside their shelf, looking down at them but turning his head once in a while to keep an eye on the chaos all around them.

"There you are! Lift this heavy son of a bitch off us now, will you? Good lord, I don't plan on being stuck down here with this asshole forever" Daryl complained and tried pushing and moving again, whereas Connor just grunted a pissed "Fuck you" and tried to move to the side.

"All right. We seriously gotta get out of here, it's getting real bad…"

Another loud cracking sound pretty close to them. Taylor looked up and now there was some sunlight illuminating his face as a new hole in the ceiling made it possible for the sun to shine inside the building.

"Shit, there's another one….and another one, fuck!"

"Hurry!" Daryl roared and moved even more, making the shelf creak and bounce.

"Okay…okay.." Taylor said, his eyes opened wide by now, sweat running down his face and making it obvious that he was scared. He then moved and placed both his hands on the shelf.

"On three…" he mumbled and Daryl mentally prepared himself for what was up next whereas Connor placed his hands on the shelf on both sides of Daryl's waist to help them with the whole pushing process.

"One…two…three!" Taylor shouted and then all three men started pushing and lifting the shelf, until it slowly but carefully moved back up a couple of inches. Connor was the first to notice the change, because from one second to the next the weight was suddenly lifted off of him and he could move again. And he certainly didn't hesitate.

He crept his way to the side, eager to move away from this trap, the shelf and Daryl, whose entire body and especially his arms were shaking because of the sheer physical strain from pushing the shelf up like that, back pressed against it.

"Hurry the fuck up" he even grunted, pretty close to losing his concentration and strength. Connor crept his way out of their trap and was free, and just for a second he had a look around to really see what was going on. There were countless holes in the ceiling and more and more walkers were still raining down on them. He could see Tyreese, his sister and Michonne fighing their way through the aisles, every single one of them more than busy and unaware of the fact that Daryl was still pretty much stuck.

"Leprechaun!" he heard the hunter shout and then remembered that Daryl was indeed still down there.  
He turned around and then grabbed the shelf as well to help his friend and Taylor.

"All right, one, two, three, go!" he shouted and they got back to it, pushing and pulling to free Daryl. Except that things went wrong. The hunter tried to warn them with a loud but exhausted "Watch out!" but then it already happened. Taylor suddenly started screaming and let go of the shelf, making Connor lose grip because of the sudden shift of weight. The shelf came crushing down on Daryl once more, making him shout and curse.

Connor stared at Taylor in surprise and tried to make out what was going on, but he couldn't see anything. He could just hear it, the tearing of flesh, the struggle, and since the man was continuously staring down the Irishman figured that a walker was probably lying down there on the floor and attacked his legs.

The older MacManus was eager to get to the other side of the shelf not just to help the man, but also to keep the walker from crawling underneath the shelf to get Daryl. He was halfway there when another scream startled him. He turned his head only to see that Glenn was lying on the ground as well, pinned, with a walker on top of him and a second walker slowly creeping up his legs, ready to bite him.

"Fuck!" Connor exclaimed and turned his head multiple times, slightly panicked as he tried to figure out who needed his help the most right now. Daryl certainly was his main priority, but he couldn't get him out of there on his own. He needed help, which meant that he certainly needed to help Taylor. Except that this guy had been bitten, whereas Glenn hadn't been bitten yet. Even worse - Glenn was pinned and there were _two_ walkers attacking him. Taylor was only fighting one walker and he was still standing, now already hacking and stabbing the walker.

Taylor needed to handle himself for minute longer.

Connor started sprinting down the aisle and then kicked the walker who was lying on top of Glenn right in his face. The undead's head was thrown back and made him fly off his prey, startling the other attacker and making him snarl at Connor. But the Irishman was far from done. He grabbed his gun to shoot the second walker in his head and used his other still bandaged hand to grab his knife and stab the other walker in the mean time. He then put his knife away again and offered Glenn a hand to pull him back up.

"Not t'day buddy" he said and then hit Glenn's cheek after making sure that the Korean was still in one piece.  
"I need yer help, Daryl's still trapped" he said and then quickly turned around to see how Taylor and his friend were doing.

Taylor was nowhere in sight.

"Shit!" Connor shouted and started running once more.

* * *

"Leprechaun!" Daryl shouted when Connor's feet were suddenly out of sight.

He could still hear Taylor screaming to his right, saw the walker, how he was biting the man's calf and tearing his skin and muscles off. Since neither Taylor nor Connor were holding the shelf he was completely trapped underneath it once more, muscles already aching, broken rib burning against his aching lungs, left foot hurting because it was slowly getting crushed by the angle and sheer weight of the shelf. He took a couple of shaky hard breaths and tried to concentrate, tried to blend out the pain and the excitement. He then pushed once more, grunting under the weight.

Taylor's screams were getting louder and louder by the second, then there was another sound of something heavy falling to the ground. Daryl collapsed once more right then and there, because the thing was just too heavy. He took a moment and just lay there, squeezing his eyes shut, trying really hard to gather some strength to keep going. It was fucking typical. Connor had made it out of here and now he'd disappeared once more, left him on his own. All of these fuckers out there were leaving him here, expecting that he was going to handle himself.

And of course he could. Of course he should. He'd made this pretty much clear during his entire stay with this group, ever since Merle had dragged him away from the evac station in Atlanta.

"Come on, Darylena. We both know yah wann do it" he heard Merle say right then and there and his eyes snapped back open. There he was, his brother, kneeling next to the collapsed shelf, right next to Taylor, who was now lying on the floor with the walker on top of him, tearing at his guts and eating away. To make it even worse - Taylor still seemed to be alive because he was whimpering his way through this torture, half dead, struggling and utterly insane. Merle watched the scenario for a moment with a sick smirk and them turned his head to grin at Daryl.

"Yah gonna end up like 'im baby brother. Go ahead. Call 'em. Beg 'em for help. Hell, you're already takin a siesta down here, might as well go full on pussy on this thing to save your sorry ass."

"Shut up" Daryl grunted, breathing in baby powder during the process and coughing hard, which made Merle laugh.

"Yah the one cuddlin with stuffed toys, sniffing hard shit like baby powder and you're tellin me t'shut up? Get outta here."

Daryl frowned angrily and placed both his hands on the ground to start pushing once more.

"I mean look at you…yah really gone this far, baby brother? You really ain't got no balls in those pants of yours even after years of me beatin some manhood int'your stupid melon? Here y'are, surrounded by pansy shit, waitin for your boyfriend t'safe yah, can't even move a lil' shelf..pathetic. The old man didn't call yah his sweet lil princess Darylena for nothing" the older Dixon just mocked his younger sibling, chuckling more and more.

"I said shut up" Daryl grunted and tried harder and harder because his brother's mocking just made him extremely angry.

"Nah, come on. Don't be like that. I mean we both've always known yah won't get shit done with your good ol' big bro Merle gone. Admit it..yah nothin without me, baby brother…"

"I don't need no one!" Daryl suddenly roared, louder than intended, because the Merle being gone thing had hit a nerve. He managed to almost kneel for a second, the weight of the shelf momentarily forgotten because of the sheer anger, but reality wouldn't let him be in this state for too long. His shouting had attracted the walker's attention. The undead stared at him, face and hands caked with blood, letting go of Taylor's bloody corpse. Then there was a gurgled snarl, and the walker started crawling towards him.

"Oh shit" Daryl huffed and tried to move but the stupid _fucking_ shelf kept him right where he was, stuck, foot trapped and making an escape impossible. The walker came closer and closer, reaching out for him, face bloody, mouth wide open and biting thin air with angry snarls and noises that almost sounded like screams escaping his mouth.

"No!" the hunter yelled angrily and tried to keep moving the shelf, getting more and more desperate but also angry by the second. There was no fucking way he was going to get his ass bitten simply because of his stupid fight with the leprechaun earlier. It had kind of been his fault because he had been the one to shove Connor against this shelf. But then again - he'd only done this because the Irishman was such a fucking prick. So really, this whole dilemma wasn't his fault. Connor was to blame (once more) and he was so going to beat his ass into the ground should he get out of here alive.

It didn't take too long for him to realize that he wasn't going to make it like that. There was no way he was going to get rid of the thing in time, because the walker was getting really _close_ by now. He really needed to fight. The hunter tried to reach his knife but cursed even more when he realized that he couldn't grab hold of it.

Great.

He didn't even need to really see the walker to know how close he was, crawling underneath the shelf with him, less than an arm length away.  
He could already smell it. The blood, the decay, death. Then there was a bony, rotten hand grabbing his muscular upper arm, and that was it.

"Get off!" Daryl roared and started fighting, and just for a second he didn't care about anything, that the walker could bite him any minute, that he was trapped and couldn't get away from the whole gutting part should it happen, the anger and sheer survival instinct took over. For just a moment he wasn't fighting a walker but everything else.

His hatred for this fucked world, the rage his brother's words had made him feel, reminded him that he really was nothing without Merle, his big brother, the one who had turned into a creature like this and tried to take him with him. And he was angry because of his nightmare from yesterday night, angry because of last night with all the things Connor kept doing to him all the time with his constant coming and leaving.

To make the situation even more fucked up - he really didn't have anything here to clobber the undead to death. He was surrounded by baby stuff. Stuff that had been _designed_ not to hurt anyone with sharp edges. He was literally surrounded by plastic, toys and stuffed animals. So he took whatever he could (which happened to be a stuffed killer whale, the irony) and used it to stuff it in the undead's stinking, rotten mouth to keep him from biting him, still impatiently waiting for the others to lift the shelf off of him but still fighting on his own.

His position was awkward but he still managed to somewhat turn on his side, broken rib stinging and making him gasp once more, but he did not care. Once again he had to show Merle that he was man enough, that neither this group nor Connor would ever turn him into some sissy. He placed both his hands on the underside of the walker's jaw and started to pull, harder and harder, teeth gritted, and soon he couldn't keep the angry, animalistic growl inside anymore.

_The old man didn't call yah his sweet lil princess Darylena for nothing._

These words kept ringing in his ears, repeating themselves over and over again and going under in all sorts of laughter and that just riled him up even more to a point where he saw nothing but red. He pulled even harder and the rotten skin, muscles and bones that were already weakened from the walker's fall down the ceiling certainly helped. From one second to the next it suddenly gave in and Daryl managed to somewhat break the undead's jaw and neck, bending it over and making it impossible for his attacker to bite him.

The undead was still moving and conscious but at least the threat was gone, or so Daryl thought. The hunter needed a moment and tried not to gag because once again he was covered in blood, guts and all sorts of disgusting things that were now on top of him or running down his chest, which made the whole ground slippery and his whole escape plan even more impossible. Whenever he tried to place both his hands on the ground to push the shelf back up he slipped and landed back on the ground, cheek pressed into the black and red mix of guts, blood and baby powder. Which was pretty absurd, but he tried not to think about it.

And he didn't get to think about it, because right then he could already see the next walker that was heading for him, the undead that had first been attracted to the smell of Taylor's fresh blood and his helpless, agonized whimpering, only to see _him_ struggle underneath the shelf, a whole lot more alive than his current prey.

Round two.

Perfect.

Daryl was more than exhausted from all the fighting it was getting hard to breathe with all the powder in the air and the stench of the struggling walker on top of him, which gave him even less space down here. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep doing that. Where the fuck were the others? He was dangerously aware of the fact how exposed his left leg, the free one, really was. This one would be the first to get bitten, should the other walker manage to really get here.

"Son of a..bitch" Daryl grunted and tried to move and struggle, because even now the walker with the broken neck and jaw was still trying to attack and bite him. It seemed to take forever until something finally happened. The second walker was pretty much about to start gnawing on his shoe when he was suddenly pulled back, away from the shelf and out in the open.

Daryl turned his head to see what was going on. He knew that he shouldn't be surprised but he still was when he recognized those legs. Connor, that _asshole,_ was finally back. He'd pulled the undead out in the open and then crushed his head with his foot. He then knelt down to check on Taylor, only to let out a frustrated sigh.

"'m sorry, buddy" he mumbled and placed his hand on Taylor's eyes to shut them. He then placed his gun on his forehead and pulled the trigger to end this sheer agony. Daryl respected the deed, acknowledge Taylor's sudden death when he'd just been trying to help them, but that still didn't change shit about the fact that he was still angry about the whole being trapped thing.

"Little help here?!" he roared and then Connor's face popped into view.

There were lots of blood spatters in his face, indicating that it had taken him so long to get back here because he had been busy killing more walkers.

"Daryl! Ye all right?"

"Yeah, except for the whole being stuck down here because of you retard!" he roared and moved, only to slip on the pool of blood once more.

"Alright. Ty, Glenn, ye take this side. Mich, Sasha, you watch our backs" Connor instructed and a couple of seconds later more feet and hands popped into view, suggesting that maybe this time Daryl was going to be freed. And maybe the hunter was overwhelmed for a moment, because there were people who actually cared about him, tried to help him because he _mattered_.

"On three..one…two…three!" the Irishman shouted, and this time it really worked. There were four people moving the thing, Daryl included, and after about one minute of pushing and pulling the shelf was back in its old place, revealing the mess underneath it. Connor instantly let go of the shelf to rush to his friend's aid. He grabbed the walker that was still lying on top of Daryl and then stabbed the undead in the back of his head. He then pulled him off his friend and crouched down to check on the hunter, much to the latter's discomfort.

"Are ye all right? Fuck, there's a lotta blood on ye, were ye bit?"

Daryl didn't get the chance to answer right away, he needed a second to turn around and sit up, and Connor's fussing over him and touching him all over the place wasn't exactly helping.

"Did ye fuckin get bit?!" the Irishman asked, louder this time, and tried to move Daryl's shirt were an especially large spot was, but the hunter smacked his hand way.

"No, 'lright? Jesus.." he growled and tried to get up on his own, but it was pretty hard when his whole body ached from the physical strain. Not to mention how both his rib and foot were pounding, almost like the shelf was still pressing down on them. It also pretty much embarrassed the crap out of him, the way Connor kept checking on him, patting him down when everyone was standing around them and could see it. He stumbled back on his feet and then started walking to get his crossbow back.

"We should get goin" he just growled and walked away, eager to leave the mall because it was getting way too dangerous for them here.

* * *

And once again they were driving down the road, this time following the pick-up truck instead of leading it away. And once again Connor was the one driving the car, the only difference between this trip and the one _to_ the mall was that they were alone this time. The Irishman had asked Glenn to join Tyreese, Sasha and Michonne on their way back because he needed to set some things right with Daryl, and the Korean had granted his wish after thanking him for saving his life back at the mall.

So here they were, just the two friends, unusually quiet and lost in thoughts. Connor had many things to think about. The bag, for one thing. He'd taken Taylor's bag on their way out. Sure. It had been necessary because the bag was filled with medicine and useful stuff. Not just for Murphy (the main reason why he had taken the bag) but also for the group. But still. He felt a bit bad about it. Kind of stealing from dead people, kind of making it obvious that the bag was more important than this guy's life although he had been geniously nice.

Jesus, he really did more and more ruthless shit these days. He could really feel what this world was doing to him, was doing to all of them. Because this was the unpleasant truth - he felt indifferent about Taylor's death. Sure, it was sad and all, but they had seen so much death these days that it almost felt like one tiny life didn't matter. Although he knew that it was terribly wrong he was just glad that it had been 'just' Taylor. Not one of the people he considered their real family.

And family and close relationships was exactly the point here. He turned his head to look at Daryl, his friend, who was still covered in blood and wouldn't say a word. Connor didn't quite know what the silence was about. If his friend was just tired, upset because Taylor had died because of him or if he was still mad at him because of their fight before shit had hit the fan.

Another reason why he had asked Glenn to leave them alone.

They passed the junction that led to the prison once more, and this was the last trigger he needed to pull it through. He let go of the accelerator and slowed the car down, making the distance between their car and the pick-up bigger and bigger until the other part of their group disappeared behind a hill.

Daryl turned his head with a frown and looked at him, confused by the sudden stop. Connor just had to acknowledge the similarities for a moment, because it really felt like some weird deja-vu. Just a couple of months ago. When they had tried to get Hershel some crutches and run right into a bunch of cannibals. It had ended exactly like that. The both of them bloody and unusually quiet, with Daryl sulking away because he'd been the one to lose for once, the one to get hurt.

His friend was never good at coming to terms with the fact that he was vulnerable as well, that even he could lose sometimes and not be the constant badass. And this was exactly the point, the whole Daryl almost getting bit and being in danger made Connor stop, made him take the time when he wanted nothing more than getting back to Murphy. But the mall incident had made him realize something, not just reminded him of parts of their shared past. And much in contrast to the cannibal incident he wouldn't keep quiet this time, wouldn't back down and let Daryl isolate himself.

They just stayed like that for a while, car idle, Connor staring at the road, lost in thoughts, Daryl looking at him with a frown and waiting for him to tell him what the hell this was about.

"D'ye wish that you could just turn back time sometimes?"

Daryl frowned just even more.

"What?" he eventually managed to growl, and Connor leaned back as he moved his hand across his face with a tired sigh.

"Back t'those days when we was just on our own, when there was no Woodbury or Murph dilemma, when we weren't at each other's throats every fucking day.."

He turned his head to the side to look out of the window and swallowed.

"Shit was easier back then" he mumbled and clenched his fists a bit. "Coulda been easier" he added, and Daryl just looked at him for a while.

"Your bro wasn't there back then" he just said, confused because he didn't get what Connor was saying. The Irishman chuckled and nodded miserably.

"Aye. Exactly."

This statement made Daryl frown even more.

"I'm really fucking happy that he's back. Honestly" Connor said and still wouldn't look at Daryl.

"But it's fuckin me up. It's driving me crazy 'n makes me do fucked up shit. And I just hate how it makes everything even more fuckin complicated than it already is."

The hunter tensed a bit and paled, because he was pretty sure he understood what Connor was aiming at. Why he had slowed down and asked Glenn to go with the others. He wanted them to have some sort of awkward talk about their situation, after their rather angry and violent confrontation earlier inside the mall.

Connor wanted to _turn back time. Un_ do things. Go back to their old relationship like back at the fire station.

Murphy had been the only reason why he'd done 'fucked up' things with him, because now that he thought about it he had to realize that it really had been like that. Things had changed between them since _Augusta_. The place where they had discovered that Murphy was still alive. And his friend had gotten 'intimate' with him whenever something important had happened with Murphy. Connor, jumping out of the window after discovering that Murphy was still alive, the whole thing that had ended with the kiss by the river. Then that night prior their travel to Savannah, when Connor had been emotionally fucked because of his guilt over shooting Murphy. That night inside that tent when they had almost ended up screwing each other - which had been right after Connor's first day with Murphy.

And last but not least - yesterday night, when they _had_ made out, triggered by Connor's first night of sharing a bed with his brother. It had never been about _them,_ never been about this turn in their relationship. He knew that this was supposed to make him happy. He had his manliness back, right? No budding gayness or more shit like that with Connor. He should cheer about the fact that his friend was obviously trying to 'end it' after their discussion inside the mall. But he was surprised to discover that he didn't feel like cheering at all. It actually really hurt him.

"Fucked up shit, huh" he growled but didn't know what else to say. Of course. It _was_ fucked up and wrong wrong wrong. And yet it had never felt like that. He knew that they would always be friends no matter what. Screwing around or not, they were stuck with each other. But still, it felt like he was losing something important.

"Aye. He even said it 'imself earlier today. 'm turning fuckin psycho. And even I kinda notice tha" Connor said and looked straight ahead. "Yer both right. 'm overreacting. I know that I won't ever shut up 'bout him, and 've done some things I ain't proud of just t'protect him. I killed people and got people killed fer him. Abandoned them and left 'em to die because he always comes first. Back in Boston I let walkers eat a fucking kid just so I could save 'im. And most of the time I…" he snorted and shook his head only to look away once more.

"Whenever somebody died or dies I always just thought 'thank god 't wasn't him.' Like all the others don't even fuckin matter anymore when he's around. When Taylor and Glenn both needed my help I had ta stop fer a second and think, what if this had been you and Murph? Would I've chosen him and fucked our friendship as well? I honestly don't even fucking know anymore, it's creeping me out and I just" he let out a frustrated sigh and swallowed hard.

"D'ye _want_ us ta go back t'Woodbury?" he asked after a while.

Daryl stared at his friend in disbelief because this was the exact opposite of what he'd thought was going to happen.

" _What_?"

Connor stared back at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Do ye wanna go back t'Woodbury or do ye wanna go back to the two men group thing. Like before we found Murph" he repeated, and Daryl snorted.

"Yeah, _sure_ " he said sarcastically and turned his head to stare out of the window because this was getting ridiculous.

"I'm serious, all right" Connor growled and looked away as well.

"That walker nearly fuckin eating yer guts just reminded me that I really don't wanna lose yer stupid ass, but judging from how things are going between us because of this whole Murphy thing I kinda figured 'm gonna get just that if we keep going like that. So I guess this is the only way t'prevent that shit from happening. Cos I'm seriously fucking sick of the whole fighting bullshit all the time."

He took a deep breath and tried to convince himself that this was actually a logical option when his entire body screamed 'No!' at him.

"I mean…maybe just fer a while. T'settle things. Give me time ta come t'terms with it and proof t'ye that 'm not such an arrogant selfish dick like ye say I am. Or try not ta be like that. I know Murph's safe now..Woodbury got walls, food, electricity, water, protection and people. And he likes it there. And 'm pretty sure he'd be a whole lot happier if I stayed away from him fer a while. He kinda made it clear that he doesn't want me near him after…" he just sighed and wouldn't speak it out. "Maybe it's good fer all three of us."

Daryl snorted once more.

"This is _bullshit_ " he stated and then looked at his friend in disbelief.

" _You_ wanna leave your _bro_ just cos you don't wanna lose _me_. Sure. Do yah even realize how gay that sounds?"

"Fuck you" Connor said angrily, but he still wouldn't start driving. He waited for an answer, and Daryl finally understood that maybe this really wasn't a joke.

And just for a second he thought about it. Sure, this was the one thing he really wanted. Murphy leaving Woodbury would be even better, but this idea was pretty tempting as well. The end of the world, just the two of them watching each other's asses. No responsibilities, no looking after others or getting upset when they died, no constantly being watched or fearing that others would get the wrong vibe, less stress, less fighting.

Connor was right. Sometimes he wished he could just turn back time to those days at the fire station when everything had been far more quiet, relaxed, when they had just kept each other company, when they had hardly ever fought, went on hunts together, silently smoked cigarettes and hunted and prepared their own food, when they'd had their daily routines and worked like clockwork. _Could've been easier,_ that part was also true, because he'd been thinking about that as well, what would have happened if Murphy hadn't come back and they had still went that far like last night.

It _would've_ been easy. No one there to judge them, no one to be afraid of, no more loneliness or endless lack of confidence. Best friends who'd reached a point in their friendship where they got along _really_ well, where they'd been willing to share _that_ much with each other until maybe someday they found real women. Fuck, Connor could've helped him to get there one day, to be able to let other people in his life and not get freaked out by his abusive past.

But still. He also remembered the downside - what Murphy's constant absence had really done to his friend. And this was exactly the point. He wasn't this selfish, this cruel. He would never ask for something as cruel as this from Connor just so he could have him all to himself.

"I don't wanna hit the road again, man" he said and this part was true.

Because he also remembered the loneliness, the boredom, the silence. He liked having people around. He loved their group. Rick, Carol, little asskicker, Hershel, Glenn, everyone. He didn't want to keep leaving them. Glenn had summed it up once.

_My blood, my family is standing here or waiting for us back at the prison._

No matter how much he really wanted to make their relationship easier and less complicated, he wasn't willing to give up their group for that, just like he knew that Connor wasn't _really_ willing to give up Murphy for him.

"And no matter how much I hate his guts…" he mumbled and then looked at Connor.

"He's still your brother. And yah can't leave the guy twice. You'n I both know that you'd never forgive yourself. Blood's blood. Won't stop bein like that just cos yah think yah gotta run away from it."

They locked eyes for a moment but then Connor looked away with an angry growl. It was true, but he still really wanted Daryl to understand that he was willing to do that for the sake of their friendship, to keep it going, even if it meant that he and Murphy would have to part ways for a bit.

"I still want that shit t'work out" he insisted, quieter this time, more collected and it certainly helped that they were too exhausted to be angry or fight about it once more.

"How 'bout yah go back t'being the guy I grew t'like last year then" Daryl growled and Connor smirked when he noticed that this was one of the rare moments where his friend allowed himself to show affection. The hunter noticed that, too, and immediately tried to hide it. "And hate a lot" he added and nudged the Irishman's arm, which made Connor chuckle.

"Love ye too, honeybunch" he said and nudged Daryl back, only to grin even more.

"This is the part where we have t'make out now, right? Admit t'our epic romance be all gay gay gay fer each other...Whitney fuckin Houston playin in the background.." he went on and even did the stupid kissy face and sounds at him, which really made Daryl laugh in surprise, although he really didn't want to. "Cut it out, jackass" he said and tried to snarl the words the way he usually did it, but his laughter kept him from doing just that. Connor was actually a bit surprised as well, because he'd only heard Daryl laugh a _few_ times.

They both laughed for a moment and then Connor finally accelerated again, feeling that another fight was finally over and everything was okay again. More or less. He was kind of relieved that he didn't have to leave Murphy to make up for his mistakes with Daryl, and he was very keen to try and change things from now on. Seeing walkers so close to his friend, and fearing for just a second that his friend could've been bitten had kind of snapped him out of his current uber-protective big brother mode, made him realize that Daryl was still pretty much as important as his brother, reminded him of their past time together, the way he had been. And he'd said the truth. He wanted this to work out. Everything.

"Still meant it, though" he said after a while, and Daryl wouldn't look at him.

"I know" he just said, although even now he wasn't too sure if Connor would've pulled it through. In the end it was the thought that mattered and they both knew it.

* * *

The change was kind of hard to miss, really. There was only one large main road leading out-and inside Woodbury, the road that went right through their part of the town, the road where they had build the two largest walls. The first thing Connor, Daryl and Murphy had faced after their return, the first thing they were facing now, when they had been just about to turn left into Sunnydale road. But they didn't have to, because the wall was _clear._

They only caught glimpses of Tyrese, Sasha, Michonne and Glenn's pickup truck when it disappeared behind the gate, then it was already closed again, making the sudden lack of walkers even more obvious. Connor and Daryl just stared straight ahead for a moment, confused by the lack of growling monsters that were trying to get inside their town.

"What the hell" Connor mumbled and looked to the left and right, but there were no walkers in sight. There was a pile of smoking bodies not too far from the place where they had parked their car, but there certainly weren't _enough_ bodies. There had been a huge pile of walkers just a couple of hours ago. "You think they got inside?" Daryl asked and tried to make out the walkers as well, but he couldn't see anything. There were still some people on top of the wall, guns in their hands, patrolling, two of them waving at them to get them to come closer.

"Doesn't exactly look like it, wall's still intact, innit?" Connor asked and leaned forward to get a better view. "Where the fuck are they though?" he asked and frowned. He honestly didn't get shit right now. He remembered his talk with Rick yesterday. _The cop had asked him to handle it because it was getting out of hand, so who the fuck had done the job without him now?_

"Guess we'll have to go'n find out" Daryl muttered and leaned back, already preparing himself for the movement of the car. Connor eventually accelerated again and steered the car towards the gate, and he was even more surprised when they really opened it after probably having it closed shut for a couple of weeks because of the herd.

Both men had a look around inside Woodbury as they steered the car to the parking lot where Glenn and the others were, and once again they had to discover that the walkers were absent. Nothing looked like their town had been overrun by a herd, it had just disappeared.

"That's pretty fuckin weird right now" Connor said and then stopped the car, having a look around just like Daryl who answered with a simple 'hmhm'. Even worse, somehow Connor was getting bad vibes. What if some walkers _had_ managed to get inside? He'd kept Murphy here, locked, unable to get away. _Oh fuck, what if something had happened?_ He got rid of the seatbelt and almost jumped out of the car, eager to find out what was going on. He didn't have to look for answers for too long, because Rick already came jogging towards him.

"Where's Taylor?" was the first thing he asked when he let his gaze wander across the entire scavenging group and noticed the missing person.

"He didn't make it" Tyreese answered and Rick nodded, maybe a tiny bit upset, but some other sort of worry was far more present in his face.

"All right, we got ourselves a little problem" he stated and looked at Connor, who wouldn't let him finish.

"Aye, no shit. What happened t'those walkers? I thought I was gonna handle that t'day? We've talked about this, Rick. I said that shit's too dangerous fer other people.."

"Okay, just…just relax. The bus was about to topple over and the wall was breached…"

Connor widened his eyes in shock and lifted his head a bit to scan the houses for his and Murphy's apartment.

"What? Where's Murph, he still up there? How many got in?" he asked and tried to walk past Rick, to get to their apartment so he could check on his brother.

"Murph!" he already shouted, panic kicking right back in although he had been so keen to control his protectiveness now.

"He jumped the wall" Rick said behind him, making Connor freeze in his tracks. He turned around to look at their leader with wide eyes.

" _Excuse me_?"

"The wall was about to give in, they kept pushing and pushing…" the former cop explained and bit his lip because this was more than awkward for him. "Me, Andrea and the others tried everything to keep them at bay, but there were just too many of them. We were pretty much done when you brother suddenly came along, jumped off the wall and started killing them down there."

For just a second Connor didn't know what to say, how to breathe, what to do until he eventually managed to ask one question.

"Where's he."

Rick turned his head a bit as if trying to look for support and then locked eyes with Daryl for a moment, who looked just as surprised.

"He….took a car and led them away. Most of them. I tried to stop him but…."

"I told ye nat ta fucking drag him int'this, I was gonna handle it!" Connor suddenly yelled, face nothing but a red, angry grimace from one second to the next. The Irishman tried to march up to the cop, fury taking control of his body, but just when he was about to grab Rick by his shirt Daryl suddenly placed himself between the two of them and placed a hand on his chest.

"Hey, come on, ease up."

"I ain't gonna…where the fuck is he?!" Connor still roared, trying to fight Daryl to get to Rick but the hunter really dug his fingers in his shirt and kept him in place.

"We don't know. He followed the main road and we lost him in this mess, they followed him and blocked our sight."

Connor finally managed to free himself and took a couple of steps back, moving both his hands through his hair as he tried really hard not to lose it. Which was almost impossible. He was too familiar with the feeling, losing Murphy from one second to the next, so unexpectedly, ripping that old wound wide open once again. He tried to control his breathing, take the rational approach but those words kept ringing in his ears.

_He jumped the wall. We don't know where he is. They followed him.  
_

He walked in a circle and then looked at Rick again.

"How long?"

Their leader exchanged glances with Daryl once more and then swallowed.

"Less than an hour after you left."

"Jesus fucking…." Connor gasped and turned around, once again fighting a fit of incredible rage.

Murphy was gone. Again. This had to be some fucking joke.

Rick tried to explain himself, but Connor wasn't even listening anymore. He checked his gun and knife and then ran for the gate to go out and look for his brother.

"Connor!" Daryl shouted after him, but he just ignored his friend and kept running.


	8. Uncertainty

"Come on, it ain't no use like that" Daryl said as he followed Connor down the road, occasionally looking around to keep an eye on walkers, but other than that he just stared at his friend's back, the dirty, tattered black shirt. "We should go back, organize this thing and come up with a plan first."

Once again: nothing. No answer. Connor wouldn't say anything, wouldn't turn around, he didn't even seem to pay attention. The Irishman kept his eyes glued on the street, as if he was really trying to track his brother down. Daryl knew that, although he had taught his friend something about that, the blonde was still pretty much shit at the whole tracking thing, which made his friend's attempts even more pointless and ridiculous. But Connor kept going, occasionally stopping and looking around, but other than that he just kept walking until they pretty much reached the town limit.

And he still kept walking.

Daryl let out a gentle, exhausted sigh and then finally glued his eyes on the street as well, giving in and finally helping Connor despite the ridiculousness of it all. He could kind of relate. He remembered how he'd been when they had lost Sophia, when he'd gone out there every single day to find her. He really hoped that this wasn't going to turn into a Sophia - part two. No matter how much he wanted Murphy to get lost again, Connor didn't deserve that. Not after everything.

Daryl eventually walked faster and passed Connor so he could walk in front of him and have the lead. For just a moment the Irishman suddenly stopped and looked at him, obviously surprised by this sudden action. But Daryl wouldn't turn around or explain himself, he just kept walking and scanned the road for anything useful, any sort of track.

It was a mess, really. Not just the countless foot prints in the dirt, which had pretty much destroyed the tracks from Murphy's car. Another problem was the fact that they had used that road with their cars as well, driving right across the tracks and smudging and destroying them even more. And to top it all - the countless trash and dirt got more and more sparse the closer they got to the town limit. They were getting closer to the forest, the fields, where the asphalt was pretty much clean because there had never been that much chaos going on out in the lonely open.

Once they reached the last couple of houses Daryl crouched down to scan the road once more, and he just let out an annoyed growl.

"Just like I said, ain't no use. Track pretty much stops here. Ain't enough dirt, just some blood" he said and got back up.

He rubbed his dirty hands on his jeans and then used one to shield his eyes as he stared into the distance.

"We should get a car, check if he…hey!" he shouted when he noticed that Connor had turned his back on him by now.  
His friend was already jogging back to their part of Woodbury, probably to get a car.

"Jesus" Daryl growled angrily and ran after his friend.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

They drove around for hours. Although Daryl knew that it wasn't going to work like that - because he couldn't track anything with all their mindless driving around - he still kept his pessimism to himself. He didn't want to upset his friend even more, didn't want to get into yet another fight. So they both kept quiet, Daryl's eyes glued on the street to maybe pick up a track, Connor's eyes scanning their surroundings for the car, his brother, but no matter where they looked - Murphy seemed to have vanished.

The biggest problem was that Daryl didn't know Connor's brother at all. The past two days hadn't been enough for him to really get how the man worked, where he would go, what he would do. And to make it worse- Connor wouldn't say anything. Wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't give him clues or information on where or what he was supposed to look for.

He didn't have a clue.

The hunter waited a bit more, hoping that Connor would break the silence, but after hours of searching and still no word from his friend he finally decided to say something.

"Talk t'me" he demanded, which was kind of funny because he usually asked Connor to shut the hell up. "Gimme something. Anything. Yah know the kid a whole lot better than me, and if yah want me t'find him yah gotta give me something."

Connor moved his head a bit and snuck a peek at him, but then he already turned his head again to scan their surroundings for his brother. It wasn't like the Irishman didn't want to talk to his friend or punish him with silence. He just knew that Daryl hated to talk about Murphy, that expressing his concerns about his sibling's wellbeing would always end with them fighting.

He remembered the countless times Daryl had told him not to bug him with his 'whiny feelings' he had for his brother, how he didn't care about that. And then they had really talked about that earlier today, kind of promised each other that things were going to change, no more fighting, no more arguing, so he had shut up and kept it all to himself right from the beginning. And this was exactly the reason why he kept going like that even now.

Daryl let out a frustrated sigh. Although it was pretty much right that the Murphy topic annoyed him he still kept going, eager to help his friend not only to make him feel better, but also because he knew that finding Murphy would make their relationship better and more fun again as well. He had a look around the small abandoned village and kept talking.

"Sophia was a kid lost in the woods. We know how kids work, where they'd go, what they'd do in a situation like that. Hell, I knew what I was supposed t'look for. Yah know 'm a whole lot better at finding shit than you are. Yah just gotta give me something I can work with…Where would _he_ go?"

Connor suddenly slowed the car down until it came to a halt, the brakes creaking a bit, disrupting the otherwise eerie silence around them. The Irishman grabbed the steering wheel tight and stared straight ahead, swallowing hard, looking bitter, worried and a bit upset as he tried to concentrate. It took him a while to say something, but then he did.

"He asked me something yesterday, before I took 'im ta Dr Stevens" he mumbled and then rubbed his face with his healthy right hand.

"Shit…yer fuckin right" he then said, as if something had dawned on him, something Daryl didn't understand and which made him frown.

"What?"

Connor rested his left arm on the car door and pressed his clenched fist to his mouth, mind spinning with possibilities.

"Fuck" he gasped and then suddenly started the engine again.

"Woah woah woah, wait" Daryl demanded and tried to grab the steering wheel to slow his friend down and make him stop.

"I said yah gotta _talk t'me_ if yah want this shit t'work out" he reminded him and Connor looked at him for a moment but kept driving.

"He told me about tha group of old people, all right? They took him in back in Savannah. He asked me ta go back and get 'em ta Woodbury. I said no, and tha kinda pissed 'im off" he explained and accelerated. "Fuck, I think he went back on his own ta get 'em. He said he owes 'em and tha they won't survive on their own."

"Just wait!" Daryl spat and Connor finally listened and slowed the car down again.

"What?!"

"Just use yah stupid brain for a sec and think first before yah do some sorta shit! Since when do yah just go out there without planning shit first?!" Daryl asked angrily and glared at his friend. He took a deep breath and then the look on his face got a bit softer. "The kid disappeared _a couple 'a hours_ ago. 'n Rick told us that he took a car t'lead walkers away. Maybe he did just that. So whatcha gonna do now? Drive back t'Savannah cos he _might_ 've gone back there? We don't even know if he really did that.."

"Fuckin aye he could've gone back there! Murph's fuckin stubborn when he wants shit, alright?" Connor snapped back and glared at the hunter, who wouldn't let go.

"Man, we've been driving around for hours now. Your bro could've come back by now for all we know. Maybe he just got a bit lost on his stupid mission t'lure all those lamebrains away. And even if the kid _did_ go back t'Savannah. Ain't no way we're driving back there right away. Sun's gonna be down soon, we ain't got enough gas, no plan, no map, no food, no nothin. And we only just got back here!"

Connor let out a frustrated sigh and stared out of the window to his left. He knew that Daryl was right. Of course he knew that it was incredibly out of character for him to just go out there head over heels, with no real plan, no provision and so much danger all around them. He knew that it was a ridiculous attempt that wasn't going to help Murphy at all, because even if they drove back to Savannah right away he didn't have a clue where he was supposed to look there.

Daryl was absolutely right, they needed to go back home, see if Murphy was back, figure out where to look, rest, pack their things and get going again. But every fibre of his body was screaming for Murphy, wanted to go after him, look for him and not return before he brought him back home. He couldn't bear another single night without Murphy, without knowing where he was or how he was doing.

"The way I see it.. _if_ he went back there t'get his people, he's gonna get his pathetic ass back here on his own anyway. Kid ain't stupid and survived a whole year on his own. Maybe yah just gotta chill. Good lord.." Daryl growled and put his foot on the dashboard with a frustrated sigh. He stared out of the window and pressed his fist to his mouth.

But Connor wouldn't turn the car around right away. He scanned the couple of houses around them, hoping that maybe this time he was going to see his twin, but Murphy was nowhere to be seen.

And he didn't have a clue what he was supposed to do, pretty much for the first time in his life. Go, leave, go, leave. One of those WAS the wrong choice. One of those was gonna delay their reunion, make it more complicated than it needed to be. If he screwed Daryl's words and drove to Savannah Murphy could come back in the mean time, should he really just happened to get lost during the walker thing. But if he went back to Woodbury right now and Murphy was really on his way to Savannah then there would be no stopping him and finding him in time before dawn, no finding him during the night in a city they didn't know.

It was such a freaking mess, really. He'd pretty much known that he couldn't keep his brother all locked inside their flat forever, but he was still pissed at Murphy for picking that lock again. And what a fucking stubborn little asshole his sibling could be, really. Had he actually listened to him when he had asked him not to do anything stupid then they wouldn't be stuck in this mess right here.

Fucking Murphy.

Connor gritted his teeth and grabbed the steering wheel a bit tighter.

"Jesus fuckin Christ" he growled and finally turned the car around.

He was so going to kick his sorry ass as soon as he found him.

* * *

Connor wasn't really surprised to find out that Murphy wasn't back yet. He'd seen that one coming. But even with all that knowing he still freaked out because his brother was just _gone_ , because it was getting dark, because he had _listened_ to Daryl. That was another story. It was obvious that his friend was surprised. The hunter had really thought that Connor was freaking out over nothing, but here they had the truth - the Irishman's worry was justified.

The kid was nowhere in sight and that made Daryl both feel guilty, but also angry. He wasn't angry with Connor, he was angry with Murphy for causing all that drama within less than 48 hours. He'd gotten the impression that although the younger MacManus twin couldn't remember shit he had still understood how Connor worked, that it was pretty fucking mean to leave him hanging like that.

Just like the blonde he wondered where his lookalike was, if he had really gone back to Savannah the moment Connor had left Woodbury, or if all those walkers had surrounded him, got him stuck, if they were threatening the kid's life, if he had run into other people who weren't friendlies…there were countless possibilities and no simple solution. This really felt like Sophia - Part Two, which he didn't like at all.

Both men got out of their car as soon as they had parked it somewhere close to the wall. Other people were already approaching them, together with Rick, Michonne, Andrea and Carol. Everyone wanted to know what was going on by the looks of it, but Daryl didn't pay that much attention to them just yet. He'd seen the look on Connor's face as soon as his friend realized that his brother wasn't here, and it certainly looked like the Irishman was seconds away from leaving yet again.

But he didn't get a chance to leave and Daryl didn't get the chance to get to him, because then another person pretty much came out of nowhere and punched Connor hard in the face.

"You son of a bitch!" the man spat and it took both friends a second to figure out who the hell the guy was.

Rick and the others came running to hold him back, and Daryl instantly placed himself between the two of them to keep him from punching Connor once more.

"Getcha mitts off of him, asshole!" the hunter spat and was only seconds away from punching the guy in his face for a decent payback. He turned his head for a moment when he heard Connor groan and then spit behind him. The Irishman held in jaw and looked rather surprised by the sudden attack, but once again they didn't get the chance to ask or do anything about it, because the man kept yelling as he tried to fight Rick and Andrea's grip.

"Why'd you do it?! Huh?! Why'd you kill him? You son of a bitch, how dare you even set another foot in this town!"

And it finally dawned on them again. Terry. Taylor's brother. They'd left Woodbury only minutes after coming back here to bring back the supplies from the supermarket. There hadn't been any time to do some explaining, to talk to Terry about what had happened to Taylor. But here he was now, furious, heartbroken, upset because of his sibling's sudden death which had kind of been their fault.

Daryl let out a gentle sigh and relaxed a bit. He was still more than pissed and even furious because the guy had dared to punch Connor, hurt him, touch a single hair on his head, and once again he was rather surprised when he realized how over-protective he really was of his friend. The Irishman had kind of summed it up rather nicely, and although it was fucked up and twisted it was also kind of true.

 _Oh right. Ye wanna leave. Now that there's_ someone else _fuckin me up insteada you.  
It's fuckin ridiculous how ye act all concerned and protective of me and the next thing I know is I get another fuckin fist in my face._

No one got to hurt the guy when he was around. He had that sick privilege.

But none of that mattered right now, because he kind of understood Terry. The guy had just lost his brother. He knew that sort of grief, that anger, knew that one's brain practically stopped working right then and there, that you just want to destroy everything around you.

"Come on, it's okay, Terry, let's just.." Rick tried to reason with the man, but Taylor's brother just shrugged him off with an angry huff, tried to walk around Daryl and glared at Connor with eyes that were filled with anger and hatred.

"That ain't none of your goddamned business, Grimes. I wanna know why this fucking mick shot my brother when he was still! Alive!" the man yelled at Connor, who calmly wiped the blood off his mouth and just looked at him, now no longer surprised or moved by the whole thing at all. He had a strange look on his face, maybe he was a tiny bit annoyed by the fuss the other man was making, because he obviously had way more important things to do right now.

He would've been sorry, would've tried to reason with the man, would've tried to apologize and get the thing off the table the decent way, but the truth was that he couldn't care less right now. Because his own brother was missing, because that stuff had happened hours ago, and sadly - because although Taylor had been a nice man, he'd never been a part of _their_ group, had once been part of the team that had tried to attack the prison, together with Terry.

"He got bit, Terry. His guts were stickin outta his freakin belly. Sorry, but he was dead anyway. And ye know it" Connor said calmly and then started walking. He headed for his and Murphy's apartment, just to check if -maybe- he was up there and if not to get some of his stuff to get going again, to search for his brother once more.

"You son of a bitch!" Terry screamed once more and the Irishman could hear them struggle behind him, then the man seemed to break down.

"You didn't even try! He could've made it! He could've made it if you'd just…!" and then he started bawling and weeping, because now that the rage was gone and now that he had thrown that punch there was nothing left for him to keep his sorrow at bay.

"I hope you find your brother dead out there!" he shouted under tears, his words echoing across the street and hitting home. Connor stopped walking for a moment, fists clenching, gritting his teeth. And suddenly he felt angry as well but not just at Terry because of these harsh words, but also at Murphy because he was still lost. Just for a moment he considered going back there to punch the guy for that remark, to release this anger and fear inside him, but he knew that it was useless, knew that it was wrong, that he didn't work like that anyway.

He tried to remind himself that this wasn't just about him and his feelings and problems, tried to remind himself that this was a grieving man behind him. He'd been there as well, said and done some pretty cruel and fucked up things when he'd thought that he'd lost Murphy, and just like Terry he'd never -really- meant to hurt anyone.

The Irishman also figured that he needed to sort this out later. It didn't matter that he wasn't really to blame for shooting Taylor. The guy had really been pretty much dead down there. His injuries had been fatal. He'd been about to die and turn and he'd been in incredible pain so really, he'd done both Taylor and Terry a favour there, the surviving brother just didn't understand and know it yet.

As soon as he'd found Murphy again he would go back to Terry and fix this, give him his condolences, talk about his brother's last heroic minutes, do the right and most of all -human- thing. But this was exactly the point - he needed to find Murphy first.

* * *

Daryl really wanted to trick himself into thinking that if he opened the door he would see Connor inside, maybe sitting on his bed and brooding away, maybe lying in there trying to sleep, hell, maybe even being all emotional about this mess yet again. But of course, that was wishful thinking. The moment he opened the door he could see what he'd been expecting anyway. Connor was busy packing some stuff in his bag. Flashlight. Guns. Ammo. Some water, and some bandages, just in case.

He wanted to go out and look for Murphy. Again. Although it was getting dark.

The hunter didn't even bother to close the door behind him. He just stood there and watched his friend for a moment until Connor turned his head a bit to look at him. The blonde wouldn't say anything at first and looked back at his bag again, to check if he really had everything.

"'m gonna go, have another look around" he said, stating the obvious Daryl needed no explanation for.

The hunter shifted a bit and chewed on his lower lip, eyes still glued on his friend's back.

"You goin t'Savannah?" he asked after a while, giving his friend side glances from time to time. He really wanted to stop him, really wanted to say something or reach out, but his pride wouldn't let him do that. Of course he had to play all cool and quiet on the outside, although he was pretty fucking close to losing his shit again. He didn't want Connor to leave, didn't want him to make it -that- obvious how little he cared about everyone and everything as soon as Murphy was lost or in danger.

But he really wanted to stick to their silent agreement from earlier today. No more fighting. No more heated conversations and arguments and clashes of different opinions. Connor had said that he would try -not- to fuss over Murphy that much, to care about the two of them -equally- but it was getting more and more obvious that they guy wasn't going to keep that part of their 'bargain'. It kind of frustrated Daryl, but he had to admit that he'd never believed in that change anyway. He knew that there would always be Murphy coming first, Murphy- getting between them and making everything more than complicated.

"No" Connor said and snapped Daryl out of it. He zipped the bag up and shook his head with a worried and thoughtful look on his face.

"Yer right. We don't know if he really went there. Rick said he wanted t'lure those walkers away, and just like ye said, maybe he did just that" Connor muttered and then let go of his bag to nervously scratch his forehead.

"And just like I said. Murph's stubborn, but he's got a fuckin heart of gold when it's about good people. He told me that he kinda likes it here, and he'd die protecting good people. So maybe we might consider that the other possibility might be the case, not Savannah. Maybe his car broke down, maybe he got lost, he doesn' really know his way 'round here…"

He swallowed hard and then looked at Daryl with a nod.

"Ye were also right 'bout the whole Savannah thing. If he really went there we can give 'im a day or two 'n let 'im try ta figure this shit out on his own. Maybe he comes back and brings his people with 'im. I can spent the night lookin fer him in case he didn't do tha, but if he did then I killed time at least. If I don' find him tonight and if he doesn't come back t'morrow then I can still go back t'Savannah. Maybe take two or three people more with me, plan shit and pull it through te proper way. But I really gotta go now..there's a lotta possibilities, and one of them is that maybe he got hurt out there and can't come back cos he needs me help" Connor explained and then grabbed his bag to head for the door, but Daryl suddenly grabbed him by his upper arm to stop him.

"Wait" he demanded and then looked at his friend.

"I gotta pack some shit as well, so hold your horses, right?" he said, and didn't really know if he should smirk or feel like shit. Of course, it was a nice gesture and really went without saying. He still wanted them to be a team, he'd always been there and helped Connor no matter what, so it was really kind of silly to see that his friend wanted to go alone. The Irishman looked surprised for a moment and just like Daryl he didn't seem to sure how to react to that, he both wanted to smile but also didn't feel like it. He ended up sighing.

"Look, I get that yer just trying ta be a team here, but ye really don't have ta do that. We've been running around all day, ye went with me fer the past couple of hours, it's getting dark out there and I know that the whole Murphy thing's annoying the crap outta ye. I got te message earlier and I told ye, I'm done bugging ye with 'im. I know it's shite so really, ye don't have ta feel obliged or some shit like that."

Daryl snorted and it was getting harder and harder not to smirk.

"That wasn't a question, dumbass. 'm comin no matter what. If only just t'stop yah pussy from whining all day long" he grunted and bumped into Connor on purpose which made his friend huff at first, but then the Irishman smirked.

"Ye know, yer always playin hard ta get and all tough, but yer blind loyalty makes ye kinda easy" Connor muttered as they headed for the door.

"More like makes me a better friend than yah'll ever be" the hunter just muttered as an answer and Connor let out a gentle sigh because that remark was pretty true and made him feel guilty.

"Aye."

Add another point to the list of things he needed to sort out and make up for as soon as he'd found Murphy.

* * *

Although Connor was pretty glad that Daryl was with him it also made the search even more frustrating. They didn't have much to go on, although even that was a lie. They had _nothing,_ no tracks, no clue, no direction. They both knew it but wouldn't speak it out, especially Daryl tried to keep the act up, tried to be all optimistic about it although it was just frustrating.

With every hour that passed Connor looked more and more worried, got quieter and way too reserved. This was the bad part about Daryl being there. The guy was an expert tracker. If he didn't find tracks or had no idea where they were supposed to look it meant that there -was- no clue, no tracks. If Connor had gone on his own he could've blamed his lack of tracking experience, could've told himself that there were some clues, something to go on, that Murphy had chosen this path, that he just couldn't see it. But it wasn't like that. At all.

The darkness was making it more and more complicated since it was cloudy and there was a lack of starlight and moonlight. The dark meant that Murphy was just as lost out here, that if he'd really lost direction a return would be even more impossible for him because if he didn't know his way around the area during the day, he sure as hell wouldn't find home in the dark.

So that just added up to Connor's disappointment, his worry, his fear of losing Murphy to some unknown danger or even worse, the demons in his mind that whispered to him that his own brother had simply abandoned him, left the town the moment he'd gone on that stupid supply run, abandoned him because of his deed in Boston.

Daryl noticed that look on his friend's face more and more and it made his blood boil. He wanted to punch the guy's face just to get that look off of it, to snap him out of this state, to remind him that he'd been fine without Murphy before. At the same time he wanted to comfort him, get rid of that look through comforting words but he knew that he was bad at that, that this wasn't the shit men would do so he kept silent. Scanning streets and forest tracks they both knew were perfectly clean without any tracks left.

This was the only thing he could do and did - keep going for Connor, keep trying way longer than he should and knew was necessary. If he were rational about this whole search then he would have called it a day hours ago. Try again tomorrow, go look with more people just like back on the farm when Sophia had gone missing. But this was exactly the point once again.

Sophia. He had failed to find her back then, hadn't spent enough hours on the search to keep her from getting bitten and locked up on that farm. He didn't just need to find Murphy for Connor but also for himself, to prove that he could find someone lost, to never let that happen again, to remind himself that it had worked before when Carol had gone missing inside the prison.

But sooner or later they _had_ to stop. They were both tired and it got more and more obvious that searching for a lost person during the night was completely useless. They had gotten pretty close to the place where Daryl had seen that large herd yesterday, so he finally said something and made them stop the search for today.

It took a lot of convincing with Connor being his usual stubborn, dominant self but he eventually did give in and they headed home. Once they were back inside Woodbury the hunter even offered to stay with his friend for the night (not only because this was their thing but also because he wanted to keep an eye on Connor and make sure the guy didn't go out there on his own), but the Irishman declined and asked to be alone. Which was never a good sign. It was really obvious that the guy was upset because of the sudden disappearance of his brother.

Daryl really wanted to help but figured that if Connor asked to be alone he should grant him that wish. They parted ways on main street, each heading for their apartments, with Daryl keeping an eye on his friend and waiting for him to enter the building so he could make sure the guy really went to bed. He then suddenly hesitated and had a look around, biting his lip, frowning, scanning main street to the left and right.

Maybe they hadn't found Murphy, and maybe Connor wanted to be alone and didn't want to spend the night with him.  
But there was one more card he had to play. He adjusted his crossbow with a sigh and went back to the gate.

* * *

Connor fell into his bed, face down, clothes still on, a frustrated moan escaping his mouth. He was beyond tired, he was upset, worried, angry and frustrated. Just three days of having his brother back, and now the little shit was gone again. He turned on his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out which emotion was more dominant right now.

 _Do ye really fuckin hate me that much?_ he thought and stared at the ceiling, judging god, trying to figure out what all this shit was supposed to mean. Sure, he was glad that god had done the impossible. Given him his brother back although Murphy had been bit and shot in his head. But all this? The constant psychological torture, the giving and taking, the constant punishing him, that had to be a freaking _joke._

 _Maybe this is his way of punishing fer everything ye did t'Murph and everything yer doing t'Daryl. Doing_ with _Daryl._

Because really. Now that he thought about it…He'd been fooling around with Daryl yesterday night, and less than 12 hours later God had taken Murphy from him. Was this some sort of punishment? This shit had been wrong but the truth was that he still didn't care about that. Daryl mattered to him. In a different kind of way. End of story. And he wasn't going to give that up. He _deserved_ that after everything. He didn't want to stop the Daryl thing. And he wanted Murphy back. Right the fuck now. Because he wanted them _both._ 24/7.

He turned his head to the left with an angry growl and stared out of the window. He couldn't see shit from down here but still did it, hoping to see Murphy return, imagined him stepping through those gates and coming back to him. But of course not. It was quiet outside, and he was all a-freaking-lone up here. He now regretted that he had turned Daryl's offer down.

But this was another story.

He stared at the ceiling once more, battling the frustration really hard but it just kept coming.

Daryl had asked if he didn't want to be alone. But he'd told him that yes, he wanted to be alone, for some pretty simple reasons. One: Part of him wanted to be alone. Wanted to be all miserable and brooding. Then there was reason number two: He had told Daryl that he didn't want to bug him with Murphy anymore, but right now -everything- was about his brother. Whether he wanted that or not. He was still freaking out, although this time there was a legitimate reason. Which was why he wanted to spare Daryl all that. But then there was reason number three why he didn't want Daryl up here.

He didn't want to take advantage of his friend. Like yesterday. Or pretty much like all the freaking time. He didn't know shit about what could happen between them now, not anymore, too much had changed between them in such a short period of time. He didn't want that because it was disrespectful towards Murphy and his disappearance, and he also didn't want to do it because Daryl was made of fucking glass. Although the guy was tough, distant, all muscles and temper and attitude he was still easy to break. Simply because he knew how the guy worked, what made him the person he was, and what hurt him the most.

Daryl had been used all his life. Abused even. And although he hated to admit it they still both knew the truth about their relationship. It was unhealthy. Dysfunctional. Opportunistic and did more damage than good. He'd seen and heard the reaction to that earlier today. If they wanted to keep going like that then he had to straighten all the Murphy issues out first, get that out of the way and _then_ try it without any problems, and that on his own.

Although he didn't have a clue how.

He turned on his side and tried to sleep a bit. Just two or three hours so he could gain some strength before going out again, this time in secrecy and without pulling Daryl into this. The bad part of his mind was already mocking him, accusing him and asking him why the fuck he would go to sleep when his poor twin brother was out there in the dark, on his own, abandoned and maybe even hurt, bitten, like back in Boston. But he just squeezed his eyes shut with an angry growl and tried to blend those inner demons out.

He concentrated on his calmer, collected and rational character. The one that told him that he could only find Murphy and bring him back if he gained some more strength, waited for the sun to rise so he could actually use his eyes to track his sibling down. And even if he wasn't around here, he needed the safety of daylight, a plan and more people to get back to Savannah, to find him there. And he was going to find him. He just had to believe in this. Force it into reality. He kept his eyes shut and although he doubted that he was going to catch any sleep tonight he still tried.

* * *

Daryl actually didn't have a clue why he kept doing that. There was a part inside of him that just drove him to do it, that really longed for this sort of thing, considering that no one had ever done this for him. He could feel the object in his pocket, just like that one time earlier this year, when he'd thought that he had lost Connor to the Governor and his old Woodbury.

For a while he just stood in front of the door, in the dark, staring at the wooden surface, unsure of himself just like the many, many times before.

He _honestly_ didn't know why he did it. All the time. Running after the guy like a freaking lap dog.

 _They make yah do their dirty work, I saw yah here. You go and fetch their things like a dog. Pathetic. And the thing with blondie? Your_ _friend_ _? He's just using yah._

Those were some of the last words Merle had ever said to him, back at the prison when they'd had a little chat down in the tombs. He knew it was true and yet he kept doing it, kept coming back, kept trying to please everyone around him. Not just Connor, but also Rick. The group. He moved his left hand inside his pocket and felt the beads, felt the surface of the cross he'd picked up.

_Hey, wasn't that the junction that led back t'the prison? Has anyone ever gone back there since we left?_

He'd gone back to the prison. Not just to retrieve the rosary from the 'grave' Connor had dug for Murphy back there, but also to look for the Irishman there. It had been kind of tough with all the walkers there, and he knew that his friend was probably going to give him shit for this later, but right now he didn't even care. Just like back on the farm with Carol he had tried to do -some- good after the failed search today, tried to find -something- to cheer the guy up after seeing him so freaking sad earlier. Because he still hated that look, still hated to be reminded of what Connor had used to be like back in the old days when Murphy had been 'missing' as well.

_He was so going to beat the kid's ass into the ground later as soon as he found him, and damn right he was going to find him._

As for now he gently grabbed the door handle and tried to open the door as quietly as possible. He was actually surprised to see that Connor was really there, inside his bed and even asleep by the looks of it. This was kind of new, actually. He had expected the guy to go all nuts about this this. Freaking out because his precious _stupid_ brother was lost, freaking out like during the past three days. But here he was, all on his own, and sleeping, even calm. Relatively.

Daryl just stood there for a moment. He really just wanted to put the freaking thing on the table and leave, but he kind of had to use the opportunity. Connor wasn't aware of him being here. He wasn't annoying him with all his talking, grinning and joking or even worse, all his constant whining over Murphy and how shitty his life had gotten because of this whole apocalypse thing so he actually got the time to study him. This right here was some private, almost vulnerable Connor, and although he'd seen him like that many many times before Daryl still had to stop and observe the guy, trying to figure it out.

He didn't understand shit.

What it was with the guy that made him go to an overrun prison just to bring back a stupid wooden thing. What made him jump into a river to save him or made him feed a bunch of relatively innocent guys to walkers in a hospital to keep them from killing him. What made him run through a maze of walker filled-corridors to find him and protect him from a crazy prisoner, what had made him fucking _cry_ when he'd thought he'd died.

He really didn't get it, what had changed his mind about Connor after pretty much hating the guy and nearly killing him back on the farm, and yet here he was, holding his brother's fucking rosary, trying to make him feel better. And he hated to admit that at the same time he _totally_ got it, what _exactly_ made him do all this shit, what made him jealous every time Connor made it obvious that he utterly loved his _brother._

At some time all their constant back and forth, all the injustice, hurt, fights and sheer hatred had turned into this. Dependency. Need. Fucking _love._

Out of all things that could've happened to him, out of all people…this stupid freaking leprechaun had to be it. He tried not to roll his eyes at himself. One would expect that after having such a shitty childhood and a pisstake of a family he would pick himself an easier and most of all healthier and comfortable 'relationship'. But of course not. He had to pick a fucking _guy,_ someone who used him just like his family. Took and took and took from him and never gave something in return. He was such a freaking fool.

 _Yer blind loyalty makes ye easy._  
Your loyalty makes you stupid. Your loyalty is gonna get you killed.

Daryl finally placed Murphy's rosary on the nightstand, and that as gently as possible although he totally wanted to slam it on there. But he didn't want to wake Connor up, didn't want his friend to see that he had done this for him but of freaking course, to make it even worse for him the Irishman had to wake up, had to turn around, had to look at him with tired eyes before he got the chance to get the hell out of here.

"Murph?" was the first thing Connor asked, eyes widening for a second, his sleepiness still pretty much obvious. Daryl tried not to look like it but hearing these words cut deep, they hurt and just stressed his previous train of thought even more. Of course Connor would think that he was his brother first, how could he ever forget that he looked like the man. But then the Irishman rubbed his eyes and seemed to properly wake up.

"Fuck" he mumbled and then shielded his eyes for a second.

"Sorry, I thought for a sec that…" he apologized because he was very aware of the fact that Daryl hated to be called Murphy.

The hunter just shrugged and still tried not to look like it.

"Don' mention it" he muttered and tried to head for the door, but Connor called out.

"Wait" he demanded, his voice still lacking strength because he was tired and sleepy. Daryl froze but wouldn't look at his friend right away, rolling his eyes and trying not to let out a frustrated sigh. There went his 'brilliant' plan of giving sleeping Connor the thing and getting the hell out of here before he noticed it. He could hear the rustling of sheets behind him as the Irishman sat up, then he finally seemed to get it as well.

"What the…"The sound of wooden beads scraping across the table's surface.

"What…where'd ye get this?" Connor asked as soon as he had made sure that the rosary wasn't his but in deed Murphy's.

Daryl finally turned around and just looked at Connor, once again trying to stay all cool and indifferent although he was pretty much a weird mixture of angry and embarrassed right now.

"Back at t'prison. Where yah left it earlier this year" he reminded his friend, who looked at him both in surprise but also anger.

"Ye went back t'the prison?" he asked in disbelief. "On yer own?!"

"Relax, ain't the end of the world" Daryl said lifelessly, repeating what Connor usually loved to joke about. His friend just gave him an angry glare, freaking mother that he was, and although the Irishman didn't speak it out Daryl could pretty much hear what he was thinking. The glare was trying to remind him of what they had talked about after the deer incident yesterday. But the hunter just ignored that, still pretty eager to get out of here. He turned around to try and head for the door again, but then he heard Connor sigh behind him.

"Jesus.." the Irishman moaned, which made Daryl turn his head curiously, although he hated to do that.

"'s like ye _wanna_ get yerself killed out there, man" Connor mumbled, now sitting on the edge of his bed, head down, palm pressed to his bowed head.  
It was quiet for a moment and then he looked up at Daryl.

"'s that it? Ye wanna go out there and do all sortsa crazy shit just so ye can opt out but get yer fuckin heroic death?"

The hunter just stared back at his friend, actually considering the question for a moment. Truth is, he honestly didn't really know. Of course, back at the CDC when that Jenner guy had tried to blow them up he'd been -very- eager to get the hell out of there. He'd wanted to survive. He'd -always- wanted to survive, no matter how much shit life had thrown at him. This had always been one of the few things about himself that he was proud of. He was a survivor. He did tough shit. And although he didn't want to die he still didn't fear death.

 _But lately?  
_  
He hated this life. It was even more cruel and fucked up than his old life had ever been. Sure, his life had never been a ride down some rainbows. But every once in a while he thought about how his life could've been in their old society. Less death. More people. More entertainment. Sorta less danger. And the most important thing - A life where he'd still have his family, abusive or not. It _sucked_ to be the only Dixon left. It _sucked_ how he'd been forced to watch his whole family and all his friends die bloody. He _hated_ that Merle had left him all alone. He still _mourned_ his brother's death, it still _hurt_ , and he hated hated hated everything.

 _But did he want to die? Probably not._ Certainly not like Connor back then. But his friend kind of had a point. He just never really thought about that. Most of the time he was too busy surviving all this shit.

"No. I just went back there t'go look for you bro and bring yah this dumb thing" he simply said and tried leaving one last time, but just like the many times before Connor wouldn't let him.

"How can ye do this shit all the time."

Daryl gave up and turned around properly to just look at the Irishman, to stare and listen.

"Do all that fer Rick, the group, me…" Connor said and then stared at the cross in his hands, stroking the surface with his thumb.

"'s what we do" the hunter simply answered, just like any other time some one tried to thank him.

Connor just snorted.

" _We_ …not so much" he muttered and then looked out of the window.

"I really appreciate what yer doing fer me all the time" he said and then looked down.

"..wish I had te fuckin balls t'do shit like tha…."

Daryl raised an eyebrow and stepped a bit closer. He had to admit that Connor was right, and it was nice to see that even the guy himself acknowledged the fact that he could be a selfish, self-righteous prick. But even with all that he hated to hear him say stuff like that, hated to see the 'strong' and 'cocky' façade grumble, the one act Connor was usually so keen to keep up.

"But I'd rather deal with that on my own this time" he finally said and then looked at Daryl, who was a bit offended by the statement, because it felt like 'thanks, but no thanks now fuck off' to him.

"Thought we're a team" he said flatly, once again feeling pretty hurt by Connor's sudden and constant pulling away.

"Jesus, don't ye fucking get it" Connor growled and got up.

"A team consists of giving and taking going on on both fucking sides, now look at us and fucking you with all the shit yer doing fer me all the time. I got nothing t'return, fuck, even now I don't know how I'm sapposed t'thank ye. It just sucks whenever ye do shit like that because it makes me feel even more like an asshole. I don't _want_ ye ta do this. I mean just think 'bout that, when was the last time I gave ye something in return. "

"Yesterday" Daryl interrupted his friend and Connor fell quiet. Both men were rather surprised by that statement, and especially the younger of the two couldn't believe that he'd been so honest. Sure, Connor leaving had sucked big time yesterday, but the thing before that? He was actually thankful. Sure, he knew what Connor's intention had been when he'd turned up on his doorstep yesterday night. _He_ 'd been selfish about it, he was sure that to him it had been all about himself, seeking near and all that shit when Murphy still wouldn't let him in.

But they both couldn't deny the fact that - _he'd-_ been the one getting the most of out it. He'd been the one to really get off, he'd been the one getting something like that after so many years. For the first time in a very long time he'd been ready to let go, to let someone in without hurting, and for that he'd been grateful. Connor leaving after that or not.

But the Irishman just snorted and turned around.

"And yah saved my life back at the prison. Yah also went back for me when the Gov caught me" Daryl went on, although once again he had to admit there wasn't much to tell. They both had always known that the hunter had been the one to give the most in this relationship, everything -he- had done for the Irishman outweighed his deeds _big_ time.

Of course there was one very important thing Connor had done for him but he wouldn't mention it because frankly, that was too fucking deep and gay. But it was true, he owed Connor one big thing - change. The guy was the main reason why he had changed that much, grown out of the shadow of his past and got that much more confident. He'd been one massive, frustrated bundle that had been about to explode with temper and aggression, back in Atlanta, back on the farm.

He'd always slept like miles away from the group. In his own little tent with his fucking squirrels and Merle's bike. And here he was now, in a tight-knit community, a valued member of a group, his social skills had improved big time and he actually had friends, knew what it felt like to have that, to feel valued and appreciated.

But he fell quiet and said nothing about that. He'd never been a man of big words, had never been a man that shared his emotions and thoughts with -anyone-, best friend or not.

Connor let out a frustrated growl and sat back down on his bed, face buried in his hands for a pretty long while. He then rubbed it and let go.

"Do ye wanna stay?" he asked then, quieter and more gentle, and that caught Daryl off guard a bit. The hunter just shrugged after a while, once again trying to act all relaxed and indifferent. The truth surprised him once more because yes, he actually _wanted_ to stay. Wanted to use this opportunity of Murphy being gone.

The truth was that he'd never asked much of Connor because he didn't know what to ask for. He never really knew what he wanted, which was kind of natural. He'd grown up never getting anything, always feeling like he didn't deserve anything anyway. Which was why he didn't need much these days, or never asked for much. But there was one thing that came to his mind, one thing that explained his jealousy and loneliness. If there was one thing he wanted from Connor in return it had to be one simple thing. Company.

And of course some _other things,_ now that they'd really gone there yesterday. But much in contrast to Connor he certainly hadn't come here to get shit like that, fuck him when he felt like crap just to forget about all that. Much in contrast to his friend he knew that this was really inappropriate, selfish and out of place, but hey, since he was already on that 'what the guy owes me for me being nice to him' kind of train of thought...

Connor looked at him and then moved his head a little, towards the bed, and if everything weren't so fucked up and depressing right now then Daryl would've laughed and called the guy out on the sheer gayness of it all. But he didn't say or do anything, he just stood there. The older of the two eventually lay back down on the bed, back turned on him and did pretty much nothing, and Daryl knew that this was his way of saying 'get your ass in here and let's call it a night'.

And the hunter suddenly felt a bit weird about the whole thing. Slightly grossed out, even. This was the bed Connor and his brother shared now. It felt wrong. If Connor wanted him to stay here, then maybe he should… He started walking a bit and then prepared himself to lay down on the ground next to the bed, but once again Connor saw right through this.

"Stop tha bullshit and get on th'bed ye douche-noodle. Yer no fuckin dog" he just said and Daryl glared at his back.

 _Asshole,_ he thought and then finally lay down next to Connor.

"Hope that ain't his side" he growled, shifting a bit and looking around, maybe discretely trying to sniff around and check what the place smelled like. Yes, he knew perfectly well what Connor smelled like, fuck you very much.

"It ain't" the Irishman mumbled and Daryl stared at his back, chewing on his lips and then murmuring a quiet "Hmhm, better be".

The hunter then turned on his back and tugged his arms under his head as he stared at the ceiling. He liked that he didn't have to spend the night alone this time. If only just for a couple of hours. Connor eventually turned on his back as well and stared at the ceiling, too. There was no more talking, no more arguing or no more of their 'new' intimate stuff going on, they just lay there next to each other, keeping each other company, staring at the ceiling, both lost in thoughts, both feeling slightly miserable and confused, but really appreciating the fact that the other was there.


	9. Sharpsburg

For the first time in a while Daryl didn't wake up with a start. He hadn't been dreaming about some horrible stuff from his past, he hadn't been dreaming at all in fact. It also wasn't the kind of cruel waking up, no, today he was doing it slowly, almost peacefully. The sun was slowly rising outside and dyeing the room in a comfortable, warm light. It took him some time to come back to life, to open his eyes and shift a bit.

It also took him a while to realize that something warm was pressed against his back, his rear, his legs and waist. Something warm and breathing. Connor. The guy was doing the clinging thing again. Daryl let out a gentle, annoyed sigh and tried to turn on his back without waking his friend up, untangling their limbs and then looking at him for a moment.

The Irishman was still sound asleep. Much in contrast to his gentle sleeping and waking up the blonde didn't look peaceful at all. Although he was sleeping his whole face was tense, a slight frown above his eyes like he was still worrying about his brother's sudden disappearance, even in his sleep.

Daryl hated many things about the current situation, but at the same time he didn't hate many of them at all.

The way they were both lying here was one thing, for example. He still despised the whole 'cuddling' bullshit. He knew that one couldn't exactly call this right here cuddling, but still. Connor was clinging to him like they were some sorta pretzel after all. They were supposed to be tough guys and all that shit. Hell, they had been doing loads of crazy stuff during the past year, so going back to stuff like this felt terribly out of place and simply embarrassing and wrong.

But at the same time he didn't despise it at all, he liked at a lot in fact. It reminded him of their calmer days back at the farm, when his friend had done this sort of thing on a regular basis. He also liked it because it was such a nice contrast compared to the usual roughness of their relationship, the constant verbal and physical fights he usually initiated to blow off some steam. Then there was the most obvious part why he liked this situation right here – _He_ was with Connor. Not Murphy. _They_ were sharing a bed, _they_ were still together with no fucking triangle, no one between them just like in the old days.

But once again Murphy was exactly the point, the one thing why he hated the current situation they found themselves in. Because _Murphy_ was the reason Connor looked so troubled and tired, because _Murphy_ was the reason why everything had gotten so unnecessarily complicated between him and Connor.

_Could've been easier._

Instead of lying here, worrying about the kid, hearing Connor's endless whining and seeing him freak out on a regular basis they could be lying here without the kid, just like before learning about the fact that Murphy was still alive. Hell, if he had to take this train of thought that far in his head, they could be fooling around for all he knew. Instead of all these pathetic piles of _crap_.

 _Welcome back to reality, Daryl,_ he thought and let out another gentle sigh. No fooling around. No more lying next to each other, no more pretending that Murphy was still dead. He sat up slowly and carefully, eyes fixed on his sleeping friend, eager not to wake him up. For a moment Daryl just sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing his forehead, staring at his feet.

Just like yesterday night he wondered what made his fucked up mind want to do that, want to go out there and find Murphy to bring him back despite the fact that it hurt knowing that he would always be less important than the kid, that Connor sure as hell wouldn't look like that or act like that if _he_ ever got lost out there.

But his stupid mind still told him to do it: _Get up. Grab your shit. Go out there. Find Emo Kid. Make the stupid leprechaun happy._

And once again he turned his head to look at Connor, to glare at him and judge him, emotions and thoughts eating him up once more. He wanted to love the guy, did love the guy, he wanted to do more shit like yesterday night after the party, he had to admit that he was utterly obsessed with him, couldn't picture a life without him, wanted to make him happy, keep him alive, protect him so that he would never ever have to feel the things he had gone through that night when Connor had first been bit back on the farm, to keep him here since he was now the only person he considered family, the only person that really mattered to him after losing Merle.

And yet at the same time he still utterly hated the guy like back on day one, hated his stupid face, his stupid accent, every fibre of his cocky, selfish being. He still wanted to beat him up, hurt him and violate and kill him because the sick, abused part of him had enjoyed doing that big time back on the farm, to punish him for _everything_ he'd put him through, asked of him, taken from him.

But of course the 'love' won. Friendship, loyality and caring won. So he let out an angry, frustrated snort and got up to head out without Connor, to look for his stupid brother and settle this whole brooding bullshit.

* * *

**a couple of hours earlier:**

"Fuck fuck fuck…fuck!" Murphy cursed as he heard the dangerous sound of the engine just seconds before it finally died.

"Oh no, come on ye stupid piece 'a shit!" he roared and hit the steering wheel hard, accidentally honking the horn. "Aye, beep ye motherfucker, but yer beeping ain't helpin any, how about ye fockin move instead!" he kept complaining, kicking at the pedals and moving the keys multiple times, but the engine wouldn't turn back on.

He was stuck.

In the middle of the road, in the middle of fucking _nowhere_ , in the middle of the night.

He leaned forward to have a look outside the window, but he couldn't really see anything because it was so dark. Not like that would help him that much, _considering that he didn't have a fucking clue where he was._ He took a couple of deep and hard breaths, tried to keep the anger inside, to calm down, but he was only seconds away from _exploding_. Then he heard it, the banging to his left on the window, the screeching of fingernails on glass, the growling and moaning of an undead person.

He wouldn't look at the woman, he just stared straight ahead, grabbing the steering wheel very tight, battling his emotions. No, he couldn't just give in to a fit of anger, rant his way through this, throw a fit like the little child freaking Connor always tried to turn him into. No, he was a fucking adult, he could handle shit on his own, he didn't need anyone's help, he was gonna show everyone that he could take care of things like a grownarse man, he was gonna do it. Just one more time….he turned the key and…

Nothing but the stuttering of the engine, then nothing happened at all.

"FUUUUCK!" he yelled as hard as he could, kicking and boxing and giving in to his incredible fit of anger.

Then the banging started again, like the noise only made the walker just as furious, and that was the little bit of further encouragement Murphy had needed to really lose it.

"Shut up ye fuckin bitch, ye can bang all ye want, the car ain't gonna move fer shit!" he roared and then ripped the door wide open, as hard and fast as he could. The door connected with the woman's face and knocked her off her feet with a loud CLONK. For a second Murphy watched her tumble and fall, saw the look on her face, and for some reason he suddenly had to snort and laugh once because this was s _o stupid_.

Here he was, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, bashing a walkers face in with a car door like in some fucking computer game or something.

He leaned his head back against the headrest and giggled to himself, if only just to battle the frustration, but also because this really was so stupid. He'd been fighting a herd of walkers a couple of hours ago, he'd been all genius about it, leading them away from his new home, saving everyone, being the hero and all, only to get fucking _lost._

It wasn't like he had a bad sense of direction. He could find shit if he was determined enough. He'd been doing fine on his own during the past year, wherever he'd wanted to go – he'd found it sooner or later. But here he was now, still lost, not knowing where up and down or east or west or north and south was.

He didn't know his way around here. He wasn't exactly an expert at driving cars (he'd been forced to teach himself that the hard way after Boston), he didn't have a map, he'd never been here, he didn't have Connor or any of his friends to get him back to Woodbury.

And because of all his aimless driving around and searching for a way back home he'd also run out of gas.

Perfect. Really fucking perfect.

The growling and gurgling of the walker on the ground snapped him out of his train of thought and Murphy finally got out of the car to kill her with a kick to her head before she got back up again. He wiped his nose and had a look around, trying to check if he could see anything familiar, but it was too dark, too alien, too new.

"Fuck" he mumbled once more and crawled inside the car for a final time to get his weapons.

For a while he just walked around, down the road, avoiding groups of walkers, looking around, scanning the trees and checking abandoned cars but he couldn't really find his way back home, couldn't find anything useful, couldn't find a car so he kept walking until he finally reached another small town. He wasn't too surprised to see that it was all overrun with walkers. The town looked relatively abandoned, looted and left for good.

Most people still feared the walkers and tried to avoid them but Murphy actually appreciated their company right now. In a weird kind of way. One: because the existence of crowds of walkers told him that no alive and possibly dangerous groups were around (he didn't trust people anymore, not after Boston and Augusta). And two because well…at least he wasn't alone.

Sure. The undead looked creepy, they were dangerous, fucked up, unholy, abstract and smelled like hell, but at least they were there. He knew that he would never get rid of that feeling, that fear they had induced with that bite back in Boston, but at the same time he –knew- that they didn't mean him any harm anymore. Not after Boston. They meant many other things these days. Company. Distraction. Protection.

He even kind of admired the way they worked sometimes. Sure, they tore people apart, killed them and all that, apparently they had killed some of his best friends, but he still couldn't remember much, still couldn't –really- feel the pain of losing those people because of his lack of memories. But apart from all that he really acknowledged the way walkers worked.

He never saw them attack each other. Never saw them kill each other or torture each other or use each other. They were one force, they had one shared interest and mind. They did not feel pain, did not think, did not feel betrayal, hurt, or confusion and most importantly – they didn't bear a grudge. They had it easier than him in his opinion. Probably. If you didn't count the whole disease and slowly rotting away thing.

And just like before, whenever he'd been on his own, Murphy liked to pretend that they were people. All around him, minding their business, keeping otherwise abandoned structures busy and crowded. He liked to keep telling himself that the world had looked like that before all this, only that those people had looked more friendly, less bloody, that there had been electricity and talking instead of moaning, like in the movies.

Fuck.

He really wished he could remember much about their old life, what towns like this had looked like before the freaking apocalypse. He also wished that he could get back to the one place that gave him a slight taste of that – Woodbury, where living somewhat friendly people were. Where there was electricity and food and kids and parties, all shiny and less dark and creepy compared to this town.

He was tired and hungry and freezing, and when he came across a small bookstore he decided to kill two birds with one stone – one: find a map or a book about this place in there and find out where the fuck he was and most importantly where Woodbury was, and two: crash for the night, sleep some, wait for sunrise and keep looking for a way home in broad daylight.

He had to kill one walker inside, but other than that the place seemed to be pretty much clean. There was no food but one water bottle so he took that and then had a look around the shelves, the scattered books and papers on the ground. There wasn't much light, but he eventually figured out that he was in a town called Sharpsburg. It wasn't too far from Woodbury, but far enough, which meant that he certainly had to rest some before going back. He figured that he could walk back home, but right now he was too exhausted to keep walking.

He spent some more time looking around and did find a map, but truth be told, he wasn't too interested in trying to figure it out right away. He looked for some evening lecture instead (or more like picture books, considering that he still couldn't –really- read that much without the letters turning into some fucked up maze of lines in his head).

The range of books wasn't that much really. It was crap, even. It also looked like some Thrillers and novels had been taken out of the shelves, stolen, to entertain somebody else. But he did find a couple of things in the travel section. There it was, greeting him with silver letters on the small softcover. _**IRELAND.**_

A simple travel guide, right next to Iceland and India.

Murphy let out a gentle snort and shook his head. Even now he still wondered how other places in the world were doing. If everything was really fucked. Just like the whole walker business he sometimes tried to keep telling himself that everything was one huge fucking conspiracy. That America had been the only country affected by the disease (third world war or shit like that), that they had been put under quarantine, that the others were doing good out there. Asia. Europe.

Ireland.

He remembered Connor's stories from yesterday night. Remembered the pictures his brother had drawn in his head.  
Pictures of wide green landscapes, the rain, the smell, the cold.

He still couldn't remember much of it. Only tiny bits and pieces. Blurred fragments, like he was watching somebody else's old movies and memories. Reading those letters that spelled Ireland, seeing that cover, it both felt like home but it also felt too distant, too unknown, to strange.

He really wished he could remember it.

He grabbed the travel guide and made his way behind the counter, the corner he had chosen as his little 'bed' for the night. He sat down and took the book with a tired and sad sigh, suddenly feeling lonely and a tiny bit melancholy.

Ireland made him think about Connor. And now that he thought about it- this was actually the first time he could really contemplate everything that had happened to him during the past couple of days. He had his brother back. He had been taken here (almost dragged even). Thrown right back into this old life. He'd been given some old memories. Some explanations. Painful ones.

He hadn't been alone, he had his family back. He had been inside a town with running water and electricity, with other people, with food and water and kids and everything. Everything he'd thought about and hoped for ever since the fall of the Boston Quarantine Zone.

And here he was now, on his own yet again. He had escaped Connor's slightly scary and constant caring, his mother-henning him, his constantly trying to treat him like a fucking baby. He had asked Connor to go back for Vernon and Brie and the others. He had yelled at him for 'kidnapping' him. And now he was in an other town. He had the chance to go back now and not get locked in a room every day. He could go back to his new life or try to rebuild his old one. _What did he want though?_ He leafed through the book for a while, stared at the pictures of old Irish villages and green hills and ruins of mighty castles.

He couldn't remember it, nothing seemed familiar.

It was a nice place though. He wanted it to be his home. He wanted all the stories he'd heard from Connor to be true. He wanted it to be his past, which had been so much nicer than all this by the sounds of it. The truth was that he didn't really have to think about it. Scars or not. Pain or not. Betrayal or not. There was no real question, no real thinking about it. He _wanted_ to go back. He wanted to go back to Connor.

Because despite all his freaky fussing, despite the locking up and headshot and all that he still missed Connor. Wanted his old life, his brother, all that. And there was some weird kind of feeling inside of him, as if it was his _job_ to follow his sibling, go after him and be with him, no matter where he went or was.

He was gonna go home tomorrow. Not just so he could show Connor the book and ask him more about Ireland, but also because he actually –liked- this life in Woodbury.

* * *

Murphy woke up during the night, when he heard the loud shattering of glass somewhere down the street. He was a bit freaked out and reached for his weapons instantly, but not because he was scared of the shambling corpses outside, more like because he feared the presence of living people. And there were some people indeed. He did not recognize the cars, did not recognize the voices so he decided to stay low, hid behind the counter and watched them.

There was an old station wagon and a small truck. He couldn't remember seeing a truck in Woodbury, so Murphy figured that this was one more reason to believe that those weren't his people, not Connor, not Daryl. It was pretty dark out there, although the cars still had their lights on. He only saw silhouettes of five people, men by the looks of it. One was wearing at baseball cap, but this was pretty much the only thing Murphy could make out. The younger MacManus swallowed hard and grabbed his knife tighter, eyes narrowed and concentrating on the figures. He knew that Keith and this fucked up world had taught him enough lessons that would make taking the group out easy for him.

Except that he didn't want to. He was keen to stay hidden, to stay quiet, to stay in the shadows of the bookstore and so he did, although it made watching them kind of hard. Three men were keeping watch and stabbed walkers whenever they got too close. Apart from the scattering window earlier they were really quiet, which kind of indicated that they knew _exactly_ what they were doing. Murphy couldn't make out what kind of building they were looting, but the other two men were caring some boxes out of it while continuously looking around.

When one of the guards looked in his direction for a couple of minutes too long Murphy quickly ducked down, hissing a silent curse and then slowly reaching for his gun as well.

Then he heard them.

Footsteps. Coming closer and closer. Too steady and regular to be the ones of a walker.

"Shhhhit" Murphy whispered and closed his eyes for a moment, licking his lips and grabbing weapons tight.  
He stared at the wall opposite him, saw the light of some flashlights dance up and down, getting brighter the closer the person got to his bookstore.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

His heart was beating faster.

 _Where were the freaking walkers when he needed them?_ T _hey had been here a couple of hours ago, and now the street seemed to be empty._  
 _Had he missed some kind of distraction maneuver?_

The footsteps were really close now. Murphy pressed his back against the counter and swallowed hard. He could feel the cold sweat run down his left temple.

For a couple of minutes he heard nothing, and that just freaked him out even more. He tried to look around the counter, tried to sneak a peek, but he couldn't see or hear the guy. He could be right in here, on the other side of the counter for all he knew.

_Fuck._

Murphy fixed his eyes on the back entrance, trying to figure out if he could possibly make run for it and get the hell out of here. He knew that he could probably take them on, use the element of surprise, but he didn't want to fight, didn't want to kill. Especially when he didn't have a clue how many more there were out there when he had no back up at all, had no clue where he was.

He startled a bit when someone suddenly started talking, closer to his counter than he'd thought.

"You lookin for some titty magazine?" a man asked, and for a second Murphy was rather confused.

_Was the guy really talking to him? Wasn't he going to shoot him?_

Then there was a soft chuckle, a deeper one.

"No, man. You'd just be wankin all over it again."

More laughter, and Murphy understood that there wasn't just one man but two.

_Fuck, he hadn't seen or heard the other one coming. How many were there? Fuck, fuck fuck._

"Then what the hell'd you want in a bookstore, man. Dude, _really_?"

There was some more chuckling, then there were some footsteps again.

"Nothing. Just thought I saw something. Ain't nothing in there though" man number one said, and Murphy tensed even more.

_So the guy had really seen him._

"You sure?" the other man said and some footsteps came closer again, but the other man seemed to stop the guy.

"Yeah, come on, let's go. Camp's waitin for that delivery. There's more of 'em mush brains coming. Probably just one of 'em in there. Looks like Derek's firework mumbo-jumbo lost its magic on 'em."

Both men chuckled once again.

"Can't blame 'em. That shit's dumb."

Then there was some more walking, and although Murphy stayed in his position he still relaxed a tiny bit. The two men were obviously leaving. Only minutes after that and him not moving an inch he finally heard the sound of two car engines and a determined "Let's go!".

 _They're leaving_ , Murphy thought and finally breathed out. He hadn't even noticed that he'd held his breath until now.

Moments later he saw the flashing of the headlines on the wall, then he heard the roaring of the engines that passed his store. Then there was nothing. Murphy stayed behind the counter for a little while longer to make sure that they were really gone, then he finally relaxed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with an exhausted, shaky sigh.

"Jesus fuckin Christ" he mumbled and then finally got back on his feet to get up and have a look outside the windows.

The walkers were already coming back. The truck and station wagon were gone.

* * *

Daryl didn't exactly have a true destination, the one distinct place he wanted to search for the weirdo. He kind of just walked around for a bit, down the empty roads, the woods, everywhere and anywhere. He was still a bit surprised, actually. He had thought that Connor was freaking out over nothing. It wasn't exactly anything new. The guy had done nothing else for the past two days. He probably would've freaked out if someone had looked at his brother the wrong way.

But the freaking out and worrying seemed to be justified. A whole night had passed, probably more than 12 hours of Murphy being gone. He knew that it was mean, but a part of him just couldn't stop wishing for the kid to be dead or dying. That the immunity stuff had failed Connor's brother just like it had failed him two days ago, that the herd he'd been trying to lead away had trapped him and torn him into bloody shreds.

Killing two birds with one stone, he thought and smirked a bit, because damn right, what a nice picture, a nice idea. Losing both the herd on the wall and the plague called Murphy MacManus.

But still. He had to remind himself that although it would satisfy him and make him happy it sure as hell wasn't going to make Connor happy. So he kept going, kept searching and looking around.

Truth be told, he kind of enjoyed going out here on his own.

He loved being with his group, loved Connor's company and everything, but Merle's death had kind of changed him. After losing his brother, recovering from the shot and moving to Woodbury he'd kind of gone back to his former self. Certainly not his angry, violent self, but his quieter, more distant self. He needed the space, needed the silence and isolation from time to time, needed to focus on nothing but hunting, tracking, roaming through the woods, surviving, _breathing_.

Although Connor had changed him for the better, had made him somewhat more socialized and outspoken he still liked to be like that. A person of his own. The hunter and tracker who actually didn't need anyone or anything. The past couple of weeks had been a bit different. Augusta and Savannah had gotten him and Connor closer again, after the Merle dilemma, but he also had to agree that Murphy's return had changed things _once more_.

This was the reason why he had gone outside to catch the deer yesterday, this was the reason why he wanted to look for Murphy on his own right now. He needed the balance. Sure, his and Connor's conversation yesterday had kind of changed things as well. Opened a new chapter in their book. Last night had helped,too. He wasn't running from Connor anymore, their fucked up relationship, but he still needed to sort things in his head.

Or forget about it. He chewed on his lower lip and nodded, only to spit on the ground.

Yeah. Forgetting about it was good. He was gonna be zen about it. Everything between him and Connor was chill now.

The rustling of some bushes to his right startled him and made him turn around, crossbow raised and aimed at whoever was obviously trying to attack him. He still wasn't really used to having to 'fear' the walkers again, but at least he could always trust his instincts. Only that he wasn't looking at some undead, rotten corpse. It was more like he was staring in a freaking mirror. _Murphy_ stared back at him, like a rabbit caught in headlines, if only just for a second. He then just snorted and the look on his face changed, got colder, more hardened, blue eyes surprisingly piercing and deadly.

"Ye gonna fuckin shoot me or what?" he snarled and just stared at Daryl like that, and just like a couple of days ago the hunter actually considered it.  
The guy was a face stealer, he was annoying and got in the way pretty much freaking everywhere….

He snorted as well and lowered his crossbow.

"Not like I could do anymore damage t'yah melon. Yah worse than a damn cockroach " Daryl snarled back and then turned around to scan their surroundings for any danger.

It had certainly been easier than he'd thought.

"Come on, yah bro's waitin" he muttered and then started walking, not really waiting for Murphy to catch up or say anything. Connor's brother eventually followed him and started talking anyway. "'n he had ta send his girlfriend ta find me?" he asked, and although Daryl believed to hear some disappointment in Murphy's voice he also heard a whole lot anger, so he stopped walking and turned around to look at the younger MacManus.

"Guy went out there lookin for yah all night. So stop talkin crap and keep yah trap shut if yah got nothin t'say" the hunter growled and then started walking again while constantly keeping his eyes on their surroundings, crossbow in his arms. He couldn't believe that this was the second time in a matter of few days that _he_ was the one fucking babysitting the guy. He'd been protecting Connor less than a minute ago, but truth be told, he was just as pissed at his friend, that _he_ wasn't the one to find this little annoying piece of shit.

"You got lost in a toy store or somethin?" he asked after a while and although he wouldn't turn his head to look at Murphy he could still tell that the guy was pissed because of that remark, which certainly made him smirk a bit.

"Go fuck yerself. Didn' get fockin lost" Murphy instantly snapped back, which made Daryl smirk even more. He hated to admit it, but he sort of liked their back and forth. It sure as hell was different than with Connor, different and a whole lot of fun because there certainly was no sympathy going on between them _at all._ But their mutual hate for each other spiced things up a whole lot.

There was a long pause as they kept walking and Daryl led Murphy back to their town, already mentally preparing himself for what was up next. He felt a little smug right now. He had done it yet again. Prevented another Sophia scenario (no matter how much he had wanted Murphy to get lost). Now that he thought about it – of course he was the only one to really do it. The others were a bunch of blind sissies. He was the tracker, the hunter, so of course he had to be the one to find someone lost.

But although he was aware of this achievement he didn't exactly look forward to getting back to Woodbury. Connor sure as hell would be grateful, and although so much time had passed Daryl still couldn't really handle compliments. Or the things people did whenever they were thankful for his deeds. He'd rather do that stuff, that it went without saying, that people wouldn't mention it and he could just disappear and mind his business, which was exactly what he was gonna do.

Lead Murphy back home, and probably get the hell outta there yet again, go hunt some, mind his own business, give the brothers some space (so he didn't have to see their whiny reunion or whatever, not because he was jealous or something, never).

"The fuck are we anyway?" Murphy asked curiously and snapped Daryl out of it. The hunter huffed and maybe smirked a bit.

"Thought yah ain't lost."

"Fuck you" Murphy growled, because he was getting pretty tired of the other guy's childish behavior.

But much to his surprise Daryl actually slowed down a bit and then pointed to their right.

"Ain't far. Town's that way. Maybe half a mile as the crow flies."

Murphy raised his head to look in the direction Daryl was pointing. They were pretty close to the road now and the forest was already getting sparser. The redneck seemed to know exactly where they were going, but he couldn't see or make out a damn thing. Nothing looked familiar to the Irishman, it was all just forest and heat and Georgia and whatever.

Moving around the country on his own was one thing, and he'd had no trouble there when he'd been on his way to Savannah. But finding the same town _twice_ after running in circles for a while night was kind of hard, and no matter how much he hated the guy really he actually appreciated Daryl's help right now.

"They teach tha stuff in redneck school or something?" he asked, not only to mock and insult the hunter, but also because he really was curious and wanted to know how Daryl could do stuff like that. He knew some basics because Keith had been very keen to teach him all that survival stuff, but tracking and really _using_ nature for his benefits had never been one of Murphy's strengths during that sort of training.

"Grew up 'n a family of hunters. You'd be surprised what'cha pick up up in the mountains of Georgia. Not like yah big city snobs'd ever know."

Murphy let out an angry sigh but decided not to say anything to that.

He hated that Daryl was the one bringing him back to Woodbury. He looked up from time to time, stared at the hunter's back and tried to read him somehow. He still didn't understand why Connor was friends with a guy like the one in front of him all dirty, angry, rough and all redneck.

Sure, the face part was obvious, and that still bothered the younger MacManus big time. It wasn't like he thought that he was the most gorgeous of them all, but he liked his face. Liked the way it looked (apart from the ugly scar on his forehead) because this was him, his face, his identity. And seeing somebody else wearing it just made him angry, especially since Daryl seemed to take little care of it. He was a whole lot dirtier than him, his clothes were ugly and so not his style (cut off sleeves, _seriously_?)

It was kind of an insult. He'd never run around like that, never get his face dirty like that (he wasn't some sort of diva, he just cared about basic hygiene), but the guy was kind of doing the whole package to his face, smudging it up with dirt and sweat and that bugged him.

So really, he didn't get what Connor liked about the guy, especially now that _he_ was back. Cleaner and more sociable for sure, and at least he didn't talk like some illiterate hillbilly with some fish sticks between his teeth. But he kind of remembered his conversation with Connor yesterday.

 _I was all alone and he was the only one who was there fer me._  
But still…do ye..like..love 'im or something?  
I don't know, Murph. I think I don't have ta tell ye that it's pretty fuckin complicated and messed up.

There certainly was some shit going on between his brother and this guy. Awkward stuff for sure, and it was creeping him out a bit because it was wrong and all, but he still wanted to understand. Daryl had come out here after all, come looking for him despite the fact that they obviously hated each other. He hadn't come out here because of him, but because he mattered to Connor and Connor seemed to _matter_ to him.

"Are ye fuckin each other?" he suddenly asked and was rather surprised that those words had left his lips like that. He'd really not intended to speak it out, but he'd been wondering about that pretty much right from the beginning. On their trip from Savannah to Woodbury, when they had built up that camp and Daryl had stormed out of the tent his brother had obviously slept in, or after overhearing their discussion in the alley yesterday.

 _Oh, fuck ye. So maybe I did it fuckin once. But you've been the one doing shit ever since, alright?! That shit last night, that was you, not fuckin me.  
_ _Shhhh!_

He'd tried to ask his brother about it, but Connor hadn't given him much of an answer. He wanted to hear both sides, wanted to figure it out and make up his mind. He figured that he'd never get that much of a chance to talk to Daryl when it was just the two of them, considering that they didn't get along and usually got out of each other's way in Woodbury. So he decided to use this one opportunity of them being together out here.

Daryl stopped walking and glared at Murphy as if the other man was some sort of alien.

" _What_?"

"Are ye fuckin each other" Murphy repeated, putting it bluntly and no longer minding it. He really wanted to know. Daryl eyed him disdainfully.

The hunter eventually spoke again, although he looked completely different from one second to the next.  
Now he looked all angry, his jaw tight, teeth clenched, Adam's apple bouncing up and down.

" _Who_ 's fuckin _who_?"

Murphy narrowed his eyes a bit, catching up on the other man's behavior.

"Ye know exactly what'm talkin about."

They both just stared at each other for a while. Daryl thought it was pretty fucking ridiculous. Especially since he felt _embarrassed_ by the whole thing. _Was it really that freaking obvious? Were the others thinking the same thing?_ He wondered. No, they probably didn't. He'd been too keen to keep his friend off of him, backed off whenever the guy got too close, kept his distance while the others were around. Everyone knew that they had grown pretty close during the past year, but they all knew that it had always been like that because Connor had been the clingy one with all his Murphy problems.

Except that the Murphy excuse wouldn't work anymore. There was no 'official' reason for them to stay that close now that Murphy was back, there was no reason or explanation why Connor should keep clinging to him now. They had always been very keen to keep it that way, to not give anyone the wrong impression although he had been more eager about that than the Irishman. No, no one else knew this shit, simply because all of that had happened in Augusta so far. They were friends to the group. Nothing more.

And yet here Murphy was, picking up on it after just _three_ days.

 _It's cos they're twin brothers,_ he tried to remind himself, tried to recall everything Connor had told him about his weird connection with his sibling. He had no idea if it was true, if there really was some sort of sixth sense between twins that made them feel each other's emotions or read each other's minds or any of that crap, but it just had to be that way. Murphy _knew_ , despite the fact that his head was pretty screwed from the shot.

"Yeah, I know exactly what'cha talking 'bout, emo kid" Daryl snarled and stepped closer until they were almost nose to nose, trying not to let the other see what he'd been thinking.

"Yah got a screw loose in there somewhere, whacko" he said and even dared to knock on the Irishman's forehead, right on the scar.

"Don't fuckin touch me!" Murphy suddenly spat and shoved the hunter hard while trying to throw a punch at him.  
The touch had certainly freaked him out, even hurt him a tiny bit, and he just hated, hated, _hated_ the guy with all his guts.

Much to his surprise Daryl wouldn't get angry as well or join the fight, he just stepped out of his reach with an evil smirk and then grabbed his crossbow to turn around and start walking again. "See?" he just said and Murphy just stood there, face red, fists clenched, lips pressed together, brows furrowed because he was furious and needed a second to calm down.

"I ain't the whacko here, I heard ye two talk. And ye obviously wouldn't go lookin fer me if there weren't some fucked up shit goin on between ye and 'im! I swear if yer pulling my brother down inta this fuckin _gross_ bullshit'a yers…!" he roared, trying to blow off some steam and letting go of his anger and jealousy.

The truth was that he did not –really- care about whatever the fuck Connor was doing. He wasn't _really_ protective of him like that. _Why should he?_ He still didn't know shit about the guy, sure, he was his brother and all that, but the memories happened to be gone.

And that was his fault, Connor was also the one who had shot him, it didn't matter if he was sorry and if he had forgiven him. It had happened, it had destroyed something between them and although they were brothers he just didn't care –that- much about Connor to feel the need to protect him from stuff like that. At least not yet.

But he still said it, still voiced his anger and disgust, if only to get Daryl the hell away from his sibling. Because despite the lack of memories and some brotherly emotions he still was jealous of their relationship, still was angry about the fact that Connor had kind of replaced him with Daryl. Them screwing each other wasn't helping there and he wanted to make that clear. This time not only because of the jealously, but also because of god.

He had spent much time trying to read the bible. Taking weeks upon weeks of trying to deceiver words and pages because of his reading problems, but no matter how hard it had been the words had still felt familiar, he had still felt at home and secure. God, the only one who had never turned his back on him throughout the whole thing. And he didn't want to disappoint him now, and neither did he want his brother to disappoint him just because of this redneck _asshole_.

Daryl turned around once more and glared at him once again, pretty angry at first, but for some weird reason he was still too calm, calmer than Murphy wanted him to be, and that just pissed him off even more.

"You really wanna play the 'I care 'bout my bro' card? Really? _You_? In fronta _me_?"

It was ridiculous, really. Most of the time Daryl never really valued his own deeds. He continuously tried to talk them down, tried to act as if they went without saying, but he was very aware of that one thing – that he _was_ allowed to talk down on the kid now. Because it was true, _he_ had been the one to look after the leprechaun during the past year, _he_ had been the one to put him back together after the little shit in front of him had screwed him up with his fake death, so hearing a 'threat' like that was just plain ridiculous, and he really couldn't believe that Murphy had said it.

Part of him acknowledged the fact that this was also a good sign, that although Connor's brother still seemed to love to throw some "he shot me" remarks at him he obviously seemed to start to care about the leprechaun again. But still, he felt the need to put the guy in his place.

"I ain't gone after yah worthless ass cos 'm ' _fuckin him'_ " he said and even used his hands to mimic the exclamation marks, to make it look like he was trying to indicate that it wasn't true. It kind of was true, but it wasn't like Murphy needed to know that, wasn't supposed to know that, and certainly not if he and Connor didn't even really know if they were really going to take that fucked up path or if they were going to screw the whole thing and stay friends.

"Here's some newsflash for yah, better get it in your thick skull, MacFryBrain" Daryl went on and then eyeballed Murphy once more.

"Woodbury ain't just a town, and those people over there ain't just people. We're a _group_ over there. Me'n your bro are friends and I went lookin for yah cos yah matter t'him, but there ain't no _fuckin_ goin on, okay? I ain't int' this shit, and neither is yah bro in case yah don't remember. And it ain't about that anyway. We lose people, we go looking for 'em. That's it. Hell, it coulda been you or Connor, or Rick or anyone else and I'd still be out here cos this is what we do. People get lost, we go find 'em. This thing ain't just about your bro. Or you. Yah just left Rick'n the others like that with the car and they were just as worried, all thanks t'you and your masterskills'n getting lost two inches away from our doorstep. So 'm doin _them_ a favor.'m doing it for _the group_."

Murphy narrowed his eyes at him once more, but decided to leave it be. He listened up instead, since Daryl was still looking at him and obviously wasn't finished yet.

"So here's the deal. Yah either stop bein a baby about all sortsa crap and we forget 'bout the whole thing and start workin t'gether, be a part of this group, or yah can go the fuck back t'your people in Savannah, suits me just fine. Send me a postcard" Daryl said and the topic was done for him.

His speech had been an honest and true one, but he still hoped that it had also served its main purpose – get Murphy off the Connor-and-him track.

He turned around and tried walking once more, and this time he was determined not to get interrupted. He just wanted to get back to Woodbury and forget about all the freaking annoying drama. Probably have a cigarette, some booze, some workout to get his mind off things. If he was honest he wasn't too surprised to hear that Murphy was following him after a while. The awkward Connor topic sure as hell wasn't off the table, and he was also sure that their fighting over him was far from over, but at least things were settled for now.


	10. Release

It wasn't exactly late, so Daryl wasn't too surprised to see that there weren't many people who were up and outside yet. Not that much time had passed since he'd gotten up, and he'd found Murphy way quicker than he'd thought. He'd left Woodbury when the sun still hadn't been that high in the sky yet, so if he had to guess he'd say that it wasn't even 7am yet.

No matter what time it was: Rick was an early bird, pretty much eager to get out of bed first every single morning. Two people from Woodbury were on watch duty on this side of the wall (Daryl believed that their names were Finnick and Danneel, he still didn't know everyone by name) and let him and the Irishman in, then they already met their leader on the former grass strip he used to grow vegetables and other food. The policeman wiped the sweat off his face and turned around, curious to see why the gate had been opened, only to drop his shovel when he saw Murphy.

"Thank god, you're alive" he said and approached the two men while he got rid of his gloves.

"Everything okay?" he asked and even placed a hand on Murphy's shoulder, which kind of freaked the Irishman out a bit. He didn't really know this man yet so it was kind of weird seeing him act like that around him, but he knew that he was their 'leader' and he also figured that Connor had probably told him a lot about him during the past year. The younger MacManus looked down and started chewing on his lower lip while trying to relax.

"Hmhm, just fine. I managed t'lead those undead fucks away though. Shouldn't bother yer wall any longer" he answered when he remembered that the last time he'd seen the man had been when the bus and wall had been about to give in.

"Yes you did. And we're awful grateful for that. You've been a big help. We couldn't have done this without you" Rick said and then let go of Murphy's shoulder. He looked at Daryl and then Murphy, only to crack a little smile. "I guess your brother was right about your skills. We didn't exactly get the chance to talk on our own yet, so I might as well say it now: we're happy to have you with us, Murphy. You've been a big help so far and it's only been your second day in Woodbury."

Daryl suddenly snorted behind Murphy.

"Yeah, 'specially with his getting freakin _los_ t skills 's been a real help" he said and threw his crossbow over his shoulder to get ready and head for his room. Murphy turned around to glare at the hunter.

"Fuck ye."

Daryl looked him in the eye, maybe challenging him a bit.

"What'd you say? Sorry I don't speak leprechaun" he growled and Murphy wanted to throw a fit and started snapping at him, but Daryl ignored him and looked at Rick.

"Speaking of which..you seen Connor out here yet?"

"Hey 'm fuckin talking t'yah ye redneck piece'a shit!" Murphy snapped and even shoved Daryl, but the hunter wasn't exactly in the mood right now. He just stepped out of the Irishman's way and kept looking at Rick, who would still look at the both of them with a smile on his face, not really paying attention either. Murphy eventually let go and stopped trying to pick up a fight, because he noticed the way Rick was staring at them, too.

"Rick" Daryl said and the policeman finally looked at him, that amused smile still present on his face. Which was kind of odd. Ever since the guy had lost his wife he'd always been kind of depressed. Quieter, not exactly smiling that often anymore. But here he was, smirking at the both of them.

"What?" the hunter asked with a confused frown and their leader chuckled while rubbing his nose.

"Nothing. It's just..amusing to see you two together. We're all not exactly used to this yet. Connor was right. You look very much alike. It's just a bit confusing."

"Ain't lookin nothin like that freak." "Don't look like tha fuckin redneck" they both mumbled at the same time and then gave each other angry glares. They wouldn't say it out loud, but even they couldn't –really- deny that they looked like each other. An awful lot. It both freaked them out and made them angry because it was un-fuckin-natural.   
  
Murphy hated that although he was a twin-brother his own freaking twin-brother didn't look like him but a complete stranger did, and Daryl hated their resemblance because he didn't like looking at himself. It felt like a mirror was now constantly following him around, forcing him to look at himself no matter if he actually wanted to or not.

So they both just huffed and then looked away again, fixing their eyes on Rick and waiting for his information regarding Connor's whereabouts.

"So? You seen the leprechaun around?" the hunter tried again and Rick turned his head to the right, to look up Woodbury's main street and the surrounding houses.

"No, not yet. I thought he'd gone out with you. Maybe he's still asleep? It's pretty early. Half the town's still in bed."

Daryl nodded and scanned the houses as well and then fixed his eyes on the window of his friend's new room that he shared with his brother and that they had used to sleep in yesterday night.

"Hmhm" he muttered and bit his lip.

He really wanted to go back up there, throw the leprechaun out of his bed and spend their morning together the way they had used to, smoke some, keep each other company, clean their weapons and not say much, figure out what they wanted to do today, maybe plan a little trip outside but of course…

He looked down and fixed his eyes on Murphy, who was talking to Rick about the wall incident with the walkers yesterday.

_The little shit was in the way._

Sure. He could go up there with Murphy and wake the leprechaun up, but he didn't want to. He'd be the third wheel or Murphy would be the third wheel, there'd be no privacy and he sure as hell wasn't going to stick around to see yet another pathetic reunion.

No.

Better stay away from the whole sentimental crap.

"Alright, your bro's Right. Up. There" he said slowly and carefully as if he was talking to an old person with terrible hearing and understanding, even leaning in a bit and pointing at the window.

"Yah can't. miss it. It's straight. Ahead. I repeat _. Straight. Ahead._ Don't get lost out there, alright? I know's dangerous t'walk somewhere on yah own, but y'can make it, emo kid" he said and kept teasing the younger MacManus about it because he wanted to annoy him, because he wanted to make himself look better and smarter, but also because it was a lot of fun.

The look on the Irishman's face told him enough – Murphy was close to exploding, but seemed to be trying really hard to keep it inside, to not give in to the hunter's constant mocking and be all adult about it. But Daryl wouldn't be Daryl if he'd just stop, and maybe he'd learned that from Connor. He patted Rick's shoulder as he walked past him and leaned in a bit.

"Should probably tape a satnav on the kid's back. He's a bit.." he said and whistled while moving his finger in a circle next to his temple to express the word 'retarded'. Rick smirked a bit but just shook his head, obviously finding their behavior a bit childish. Daryl kept walking towards the door to his building, even when Murphy yelled "At least I ain't fockin gay!" after him, echoing across the whole town, which he had certainly done on purpose.

The hunter slowed down a bit at first and clenched his fists a bit, but decided that going back and punching the guy would only make it worse. He soon disappeared behind the door to his building and left Rick and Murphy behind on main street.

"Christ, he always such a fuckin arsehole?" the younger MacManus muttered and grabbed a cigarette to calm his nerves.

 _Geez. He'd finally made it after all the drama yesterday and earlier this morning._ No more walkers, no more weird strangers, no more unknown towns, no more fucking Daryl. Now it was just some smoke in his lungs, the smell of grass and vegetables and the most important thing – delicious silence.

Rick smirked and turned around to go back to his garden.

"He can be quite a handful but trust me, Daryl's a good guy. He just got his ups and downs. We all have."

Murphy stood there on the street for a moment, rolling the cigarette around in his mouth, sticking another one behind his right ear and then shoved both his hands in his pockets as he stared at the houses, trying to find the room Connor was supposedly sleeping in. He could hear how Rick started shoveling dirt again. He figured that he should probably go back up there right away, tell Connor that he was alright and back.

After experiencing how crazy Connor could get when something was 'wrong' with him or when there was 'danger' he was pretty sure that the guy was freaking out just as much right now. Maybe even a whole lot more than he'd ever seen it. Or could remember it. So he should probably put him out of his misery. But at the same time he didn't want to deal with that just yet. He already knew the consequences. Connor would probably lock him up again. Lecture him, do all sorts of annoying shit and be all baby about it.

Murphy wrinkled his nose and decided to do the opposite.

He followed Rick to stay outside a bit longer.

"Are those tomatoes?" he asked instead and pointed at the vegetables Rick was working other man turned around to look at the Irishman as he kept digging and shoveling.

"Tomatoes, beans, potatoes, cucumbers..We're trying to get as many vegetables and fruits as possible. Sooner or later we'll run out of canned goods. Better safe..than sorry" he grunted and then rubbed his forehead.

Murphy nodded and watched him for a moment. He'd never thought about that. Actually planting food. Taking care of it and growing it on his own. He'd always relied on canned goods and stale sweets and maybe some raw meat every now and then. Not to mention all the berries and mushrooms he'd eaten. But all of those had been growing on their own.

"Aye, good idea."

Electricity, running water, and soon their very own fresh little supermarket.  
This place really was heaven, and it felt less and less like a freaking case of 'kidnapping'.  
Yep. He liked it here.

"What about those walkers? Where did you lead them before you got lost?" Rick asked after a while, and Murphy shrugged.

"Don't have a clue. But's been far enough fer sure. I kinda took a little…detour" he said and moved his arm as if he was trying to symbolize a sharp turn. Because nope, he wouldn't say 'lost'. He hadn't gotten himself lost. Just a detour. Yep. He'd been very eager to get those filthy fucks as far away as possible. Nothing more.

"Got ta some town called Sharpsburg sooner or later. 't was pretty dark by then. But I doubt they'll be coming back here any time soon" he muttered and moved his head to look at the wall, lost in thoughts for a moment.

"Sharpsburg? Yeah, that should be far enough for now. I'll tell Connor and Daryl and a couple of other people to deal with that later.  
You've done more than enough for today. Thank you, really."

The policeman slowed down when he noticed that Murphy wouldn't leave just yet, although he kind of wanted to be alone right now.

"Right" Murphy said after a while, picking up on the fact that he wasn't exactly wanted here right now. He started walking a bit and put his hand in his pockets while Rick looked at his vegetables again. Murphy chewed on his lower lip some more, contemplating what he should do, and he then decided that he should just go ahead.

"Just, one more thing" he said shyly which made Rick look at him again.

"Don't exactly know who else 'm sapposed t'tell. I don' know this town yet, Daryl's a dick, Conn's a drama queen…but yer the boss here, right?" Murphy added and shrugged a bit.

Rick rested both his arms on the shovel and shook his head.

"There's no such thing as a 'boss' here. Not anymore. We got a council, a group of people who take care of things. People like Hershel. Carol, Daryl, Connor, Michonne and Glenn."

Murphy blew some smoke in the air and shrugged while nodding.

"Alright" he mumbled and then started chewing on his fingernail for a while. He didn't exactly want to scare people after having been able to lead some danger away, but he felt the need to tell somebody about it, since he already felt responsible for life in this town, although he didn't even know the majority of people here yet. But he'd seen some kids and elderly people so he figured that he sure as hell owed them.

"When I was in Sharpsburg some strangers rode through town and searched a buncha stores. Didn't exactly sound or look too friendly. And the herd I led away kinda met and mixed up with another larger herd close ta some highway."

Rick looked surprised by that and then let go of his shovel so he could massage the bridge of his nose with a gentle sigh.  
Daryl had already told him about that other herd yesterday, and he didn't like this one at all.

"Like I said…'m pretty sure that's far enough but… y'know. I thought ye should probably know about those people. People don't exactly mean anything good these days. 't least in my experience" the younger MacManus twin said and then looked down, remembering the hard times.

Boston. Zach.  
Augusta. Keith's death, the ambush, the 'doctors' who had tried to kill him.  
Savannah. Crawford.

Rick nodded with a gentle sigh.

"I know. It's just..I don't really.. do that sort of thing anymore. I don't…deal with this kind of…stuff. I'll let the council know. I'm sorry, but your brother must know about things like that as well. He's on the council, and him and Daryl usually deal with that kinda thing."

Murphy let out a frustrated sigh and turned around to look at the houses again.

"Jus…just don't tell him I was the one t'find out about them, that I was close ta them. He'll just fuckin freak out again…" the younger MacManus requested, but he knew that sooner or later his brother was going to find out anyway.

"He's just worried about you. And really happy to have you back" Rick said and then got back to work.

Murphy just snorted and took another drag on his cigarette.

"Aye."

Fucking Connor.

"Hey Rick, say, d'ye know if those apartments got two setsa keys fer each room?"

* * *

When Connor woke up he had a hard time leaving this sort of blissful state, the dreaming, the resting, the luxury of not having to worry about anything, to come up with all sorts of stuff that he'd always wanted but could never get. And when he finally did wake up he did it slowly, blinking a couple of times, yawning, moving, stretching his aching limbs. For just a moment he was even a bit confused, he'd been sound asleep and his dreams had been intense, which was why it took him a while to remember where he was, what time it was, what day it was, what had happened, where he was.

And he certainly didn't like remembering all that.

The first thought that came to his mind, that almost shocked him, was Murphy. His sibling, who he had found but now lost again. Just like before, to a large mob of walkers, somewhere out there. He'd gone to bed with this uncertainty eating him up, the not knowing where his sibling was, if he was hurt, in danger, deadly wounded or kidnapped. Murphy was just..gone. Not home when he'd returned from his scavenging trip with Daryl.

Daryl. Right. He then remembered what else had happened. They had spent pretty much the whole night looking for Murphy, in the dark, in the woods, all around Woodbury until they had both returned with absolutely nothing – no clue, no trace, no answer. Until they had both crashed for the night, and Daryl had been kind enough to keep him company.

And he certainly didn't get disappointed here.

He opened his eyes slowly and carefully, still seeing everything pretty much in a blurry vision, but he could make out the figure that was sitting next to him, staring at him, hair black and a little bit unkempt.

"Are ye going ta punch me again?" Connor asked and smirked sleepily, although he felt shitty because of Murphy's disappearance. But he still had to smirk a bit because he'd said those words on purpose, words he had said regularly back on the farm inside their tent, because back then Daryl had really beaten him pretty much often, given him bruises and a black eye and all that. Now he just said those words to tease his friend, since their relationship had taken an other turn by now. And he smiled because he liked that, because he liked the fact that at least he had Daryl right now, that at least _he_ was with him when Murphy was…

"Ye know what, maybe I should do tha. Might make me feel better after Boston and all yer locking me up."

Connor's eyes snapped open, and the Irishman was wide awake within seconds.

"M…Murph?!" he exclaimed and bolted upright from one split second to the next, staring at his sibling with wide eyes, who was sitting next to him on the bed with a book in his lap. The older of the two twins nearly fell off the bed.

"Aye, ain't yer focking girlfriend" Murphy said and glared at Connor for a moment, and maybe he was moping and pouting a bit. It made him angry that his sibling had confused him with this stupid redneck (seriously, how could _anyone_ ever confuse them? He _didn't_ look like the guy! Not at all!), and it made him both jealous and furious to know that Connor had been _fucking smiling_ like that because he'd thought that he'd been speaking to _the other guy,_ not him.

He usually hated Connor's fussing over him big time, but he'd already gotten used to it and secretly liked it, to be at the constant center of attention for someone. He wanted it to be exclusive, and he certainly didn't want _Daryl_ to get any of that. But of course, Connor had still smiled because of the guy, not him. And his older sibling full-on did the staring at him for a good minute now, which certainly freaked Murphy out a bit.

"What, ye'd rather have the schtupid redneck ta…"

"You little shit!" Connor exclaimed and even dared to hit the back of Murphy's head with his flat palm.

He certainly didn't do it too hard, it was more of a gentle, friendly pat, but he still did it.

"Ow!" Murphy complained, rubbed the back of his head and then looked at his twin brother in disbelief. For a moment they looked at each other, then the younger MacManus launched himself at his brother and wrestled him into the bed as he started hitting him back with his flat palms, on the back and side of his head, kicking at his feet. They both started scuffling and rolled around the bed, an occasional 'motherfucker!' or 'yer such a fuckin asshole!' escaping their mouths.

Their fight was a lot different than the fights Connor usually got himself into with Daryl. This one was less violent and heartfelt, it was hardly even a beating or a punch because never in a million years did the older MacManus want to put a single scratch on his sibling after Boston, and Murphy wouldn't fight too hard because he practically didn't really 'know' Connor that much yet because of his memory loss and he respected his personal space. But they still scuffled like siblings, like five year old boys, like they'd always done it although the younger of the two couldn't remember that.

Connor managed to pin Murphy into the mattress and glared at him, all angry but at the same time incredibly happy to have his sibling back after the mess yesterday.

"What did ye fuckin do tha fer then, huh?! Ye scared me shitless ye little fuck! I thought I fuckin lost ye out there, I fuckin told ye nat to leave this room and ye just …!"

A surprised huff escaped his mouth when Murphy kneed him in his stomach and managed to turn them around, so he was on top of his brother and glared at him with angry eyes, raven black hair pointing in every direction. He buried his fingers in Connor's shirt and pulled his sibling up and towards his face like that, so he could really snap at him.

"Oh fuck ye, don' be such a fuckin wuss and have some fuckin balls! 'm here now arent' I?" Murphy snapped and then shoved him back into the mattress, incredibly annoyed by all his talk from one second to the next. It wasn't like he hadn't seen that one coming, but he didn't like being touched on his head, certainly not by Connor after…so he tensed a bit and gave the older sibling an angry glare, but the blonde didn't seem to pick up on that _at all._

So Murphy let go of his brother and climbed off of him, so he could get back to his book since their little scuffle was obviously over now. Except that it didn't seem to be over yet because Connor wouldn't let go. And here it was, right away, the fucking pointer finger, aimed right at him.

"Don' be talkin ta me like that, 'm not finished with ye. How can ye jump tha fucking wall like that? Huh? Are ye fucking crazy, ye should've waited fer me'n Daryl ta come back, ye could've…"

"Shut up!" Murphy suddenly yelled back and wouldn't back off the way he'd always done it whenever he'd seen _the finger_ , no, this Murphy right here was pointing _his finger back at Connor._

"Ye listen ta me right now yah fuckin retard!" he even ordered, his voice all commanding, which made Connor raise both his eyebrows in utter disbelief because this was something new. Old Murphy had certainly put up a fight back in the old days as well, constantly moaned about his plans and teased him and snarked at everything, but in the end old Murphy had always listened to him, _his_ orders, he'd always looked up to him and let himself be guided instead of _explicitly demanding_ to call the shots and be in charge here.

"' _m no fockin twelve!"_ Murpyh repeated for what felt like the millionth time because his stupid brother just didn't seem to get it. And he kept pointing at Connor, but even he was just as surprised by the whole scenario. He usually liked to keep quiet, he usually didn't like being in charge or bossing people around. He didn't really want to fight, he wanted it to be over, he did want Connor to stop the whole motherhenning him and freaking out thing, which was exactly the reason why he gave in to the fight for a final time.

"I _know_ tha shit was dangerous. I _knew_ I shouldn' have kept ye waiting but I did cos I…" he took a deep breath and tried to speak it out as quickly as possible, because this part of his speech wasn't so tough and cool at all. "kindagotlostonmewaybackherebutthadoesnmatter. If ye want me ta stay with ye, if ye want..us..ta work" Murphy said and pointed between the both of them, which still was pretty weird because there it was again.

 _The man opposite him was his twin brother. Wow. He had a fucking twin brother. A family during the freaking apocalypse. This man opposite him was_ _**his** _ _._

"Then ye gotta understand that there's an _us_ here. People with _two_ brains who can think'n do shit. Not just you. Yer gonna let me pull me own weight here. I've survived a whole year on my own, Connor. I _know_ what I'm doin."

Connor still looked at him, his own pointer finger now lowered and relaxed. The blonde twin still looked surprised, but not so much anymore, now he actually seemed to listen to him. Murphy looked him in the eye but had to look away pretty soon, because he still didn't like the intensity of it. It was always there, the deep looks, the intense connection between them that came to life whenever they looked at each other, and that still weirded him out. He still wasn't used to it yet. He was sure that, since the whole thing was pretty intense and weird, it had been there all their lives, but the headshot had damaged this part of his brain, the memory, so to him all of this was new again. A bit familiar, but new still.

"I know yer just afraid'a calling the wrong shots again but ye did tha by default. If I hadn't managed to pick the lock then the wall could've been overrun, and _that_ could've killed me. If I hadn't managed ta lead the walkers away. Fuck, even inside this room I could like…trip over the bed or slip in the shower and die or somethin. Yer whole freaking out over everything remotely dangerous around me 's just retarded. Ye gotta let me make my own choices an do my own thing. I _know_ what's dangerous and I knew tha it was too dangerous out there with all the walkers, which is why I tried ta get straight back here, didn' I? Yer fuckin headshot might've crippled me and made me ferget shit, but it didn' make me fockin stupid."

Connor still wouldn't say anything, and he pulled a face when Murphy mentioned the headshot, it made the edges of his mouth twist and sink, made his brows furrow with pain and regret. But the younger MacManus kept talking.

"And it's a fact that I handled shit on me own just fine. _I_ saved yer fucking town without yer constant stupid fussin over me. And I swear ta fuckin god, if ye try ta lock me up one more time or try ta go all mother on me ever again then I _will_ punch you in yer fuckin face fer real this time" Murphy finished his little speech and then finally lowered _the finger,_ and maybe he was a little proud of himself right now. He quickly turned around to get his Ireland book back, but also so he could turn his back on Connor and give in to the delicious, smug grin that broke through.

_He'd made Connor speechless with that. He'd made **Connor** listen to him for once. Hardy fucking har. He'd pat his own shoulder if he could._

There was a long pause and silence between the twins as Murphy made himself comfortable inside the bed yet again and got back to his picture book like nothing had happened. Connor wouldn't say anything for a while either, he seemed to be shocked, surprised, and obviously pissed because of the fact that he'd been told to shut up and man up, that he hadn't been in charge and reasonable for once. And Murphy didn't know that, but Connor was also busy thinking about Daryl and what he'd promised him about the whole Murphy and taking care of him thing.

The older MacManus kept looking at his sibling, watched him read and then started chewing on his lips, still lost in thoughts and awfully quiet.  
But Murphy wouldn't give in, wouldn't look at him, he was trying to get his point across. Then Connor spoke again.

"Are ye hurt?" he asked, quieter this time, gentler, less freaked out and just honestly curious and affectionate.

Murphy chewed on his fingernail and turned the page, still not looking at Connor.

"Nope."

"Good. Can I check?"

Murphy shook his head once again.

"Nope."

Connor smirked a bit and still secretly checked his twin, if only just with his eyes. But it seemed to be true.  
He couldn't see a single scratch, so he relaxed a bit and leaned back.

Another pause.

"Can I hug ye?" he then asked, and part of him wanted to shake his head and punch himself in his face because this was so _stupid_. Back in the old days he'd been all over Murphy, always touching him, patting him, caressing him, holding him. And he sure as hell had never _asked_ if he could do that. But he was too afraid of spooking his sibling these days, didn't want to strain their luck, get back into it all slowly and carefully.

Murphy just stared at him for a while, then he shrugged and looked at his book again.

"Guess so."

Connor instantly wrapped his arms around his sibling and let out an exhausted and relieved sigh, rubbing his back, holding him tightly. And maybe Murphy hugged back and clung to him just as much, although that surprised him. It terrified him and made him feel incredibly _good_ at the same time. It also frustrated him how he just _couldn't_ stay angry with Connor for too long, how easy it was to forgive him his freaking _stupidity_.

 _Fuck, I thought I'd lost you again_ , Connor thought but wouldn't speak it out. He also used the hug to secretly feel the rest of Murphy's body for any bruises, cuts, blood, or broken bones. Murphy responded with an incredibly annoyed eye-roll, but wouldn't say anything. Connor could feel him tense pretty soon so he quickly let go of his sibling and got back on his side of the bed, eager to mind their new boundaries.

Connor lay back down and searched his jeans until he found the crushed pack of cigarettes from the supply run yesterday.

"D'ye wanna have a smoke?" he asked and handed his sibling one before Murphy got the chance to actually say "Aye."

They both lit their cigarettes at the same time, oblivious to it and not doing it on purpose. They blew out some smoke and just enjoyed that for a moment. And then there was nothing. Connor shifted after a while and just stared at the ceiling. No more fights. No more fussing. No more motherhenning. Just the silence and them smoking.

Now that was _weird._

Murphy hated it, but incredible curiosity had always been one of his biggest character traits. He could never sit still for too long, he could never just do nothing and rest, he always had to touch, move, feel, explore. And damn him if he wasn't curious about what Connor was thinking now and why the fuck he would just listen to him like that. Be quiet. Stop fussing. Just smoke and shut up like that.

"Did'ye get hurt during _yer_ supply run?" he tried and Connor shook his head.

"Nope."

Murphy nodded.

"Good."

Silence.

"Daryl'n I kinda fucked up though. Taylor died. One of the supply runners. 'n now his brother Terry's real mad at me" Connor muttered after a moment and kept staring at the ceiling. Murphy took a long drag on his cigarette and looked at his sibling for a while. Now that they were no longer fighting or arguing about something he actually paid attention to what he was seeing. Connor did look exhausted and tired and a whole lot older. His brows were almost constantly furrowed, he seemed to be constantly worried or lost in thoughts and a tiny bit sad.

"Oh" the younger simply answered and blew out some smoke at the same time.

Another pause. Murphy made the cigarette dance along his lips and then smirked after a while, trying to lift the mood a bit.

"Ye'n Daryl _fucked_ it up?" he asked and Connor snorted loudly.

"Jesus, Murph."

Murphy chuckled a bit, although the topic still freaked him out, still made his skin crawl.

"What, ye told me."

"I said absolutely fuckin nothin, Murph" Connor reminded his sibling and tensed a bit because he didn't like to talk to his brother about that. Sure, he wanted them to be honest with each other. Back in the old days he'd told Murphy about _everything_. But this? This was slightly awkward. He'd been stupid enough to bring it up in the first place.

"He's the one who kinda found me earlier this morning. He brought me back ta Woodbury" Murphy informed Connor after a while, although he didn't like to admit that. Connor turned his head and looked at his sibling in surprise.

"Who, Daryl?"

Murphy nodded and kept looking at his sibling, studying his face, trying to figure him out, get to know him again, understand how his brother possibly could've gotten himself in such a fucked up _mess_ with the redneck and all that.

"Hmhm."

Connor blew out some smoke and then turned his head to tap the ash of his cigarette on the nightstand. This was when he saw the rosary. Murphy's rosary. The one Daryl had brought him yesterday night, after he'd gone back out there on his own, when he'd gone to the prison just to bring this one back. To give him hope. _He's the one who kinda found me earlier this morning._ So Daryl had gone out there again. Today. Earlier this morning. On his own. Without waking him up.

_This motherfucker._

Doing all that shit all the time. Going out looking for Sophia, taking care of him after the bite, and now bringing Murphy back. _Fuuuuck._ One good and useful deed after another. _For him._ He moved his flat palm across his face and took a deep breath. Fucking Daryl. He suddenly felt incredibly guilty, even worse. He felt like seemed to mean the freaking _world_ to the guy.

And here _he_ was, smoking his stupid cigarette, all well-rested, immune to this godforsaken disease, invisible to walkers, with his beloved brother back and right next to him. And _not_ Daryl.  
 _  
You're still a selfish prick._

"Con?" Murphy asked and snapped him out of it.

Connor stopped staring at the rosary, stopped thinking about all those things and turned his head to look at his sibling with a nervous sniff.

"Aye?"

"Ye really didn'…y'know?"

Connor just looked at Murphy, and he wouldn't answer. The younger MacManus didn't know how he was supposed to take this silence, if this was some sort of confirmation or if Connor was just thinking about it, so he kept talking.

"Cos I can't help but notice tha…well, the guy hates me but he still came lookin fer me and I think he did tha cos 'a you…and Rick and the others kinda made it sound like ye and the guy're always tagether an he's always trying t'make ye look good in fronta me, like he's trying ta protect ye. Well it's just..It's just a bit weird" Murphy finally admitted and when Connor kept looking at him like that he quickly tried to get himself out of this mess.

"I mean, 's not like I don't want ye ta have any friends and I haven't been around long enough ta… It's just…"

"I told ye Murph" Connor said quietly and stared at the ceiling. "Shit just kinda happened. And now…"

_Now it's too late. No fucking turning back. I can't undo shit, and neither can I stop it. It's just…there._

"But…well…" Murphy let out a frustrated sigh and spoke it out. "Connor, he got _my face_. I mean, I don' remember shit 'bout us but I'm pretty sure tha.."

"It got nothing ta do with yer fuckin face or even you, Murph, Jesus fuckin Christ, how fucked up do ye think I am" Connor interrupted his sibling and wouldn't even let him finish. He couldn't believe that Murphy was even trying to suggest something as…as fucked up and _gross_ as this.

"Geez, relax, 'm just trying ta understand, no need ta be all pissy" Murphy grumbled and blew out some more smoke. The whole topic still didn't sit right with him, but at least there was one awkward topic that was done – Connor being kind of _strange_ with a _guy_ was one thing, but the thought that maybe he was like that because the guy had _his_ face and he loved _him_ like _that –_ it made him shiver and shake. That was like the most outrageous of sins, and he was –so- glad that this wasn't the case.

But even with all that.

Daryl still _had_ his face.

"Hell, I don' know" Connor suddenly said with a frustrated sigh and got up. Murphy watched him with a frown.

"Hey, where ye going? I just came back, there's shit I wanted t'tell ye."

Connor nodded and stopped walking for a moment to give his sibling a tiny smile.

"I know. I'll be right back, Murph.'s just something I gotta do first. But..I'll be right back and then we can talk all we want."

He started walking until he reached the door, and this time Murphy paid much attention, he glued his eyes on Connor, on the door, tried to wait and see if his twin locked it again. Connor placed a hand on the door handle and still contemplated it for a second, but then he looked at Murphy and pressed his lips together. It was obviously rather hard to try not to lock his twin up, to 'protect' him from danger, lock him in a golden cage and wrap him up in bubble wrap, but he wouldn't reach for the key. He just looked at Murphy.

"I won't lock ye up if that's what yer thinking" he said as he picked up on Murphy's suspicion.  
His sibling even raised an eyebrow in slight disbelief.

"Just promise me something" Connor demanded and Murphy shrugged like he was saying 'like what' as he took another drag on his cigarette.

"Don' die" the older MacManus said and stared at his sibling for a long while. He was very honest about this, and there was a lot of hidden emotion in this, a weakness. Fear. Because that was back now. He'd thought that he'd lived through that last year. That his worst fear had become reality. Only to discover that it still hadn't happened yet. Nothing had really managed to kill Murphy so far, taken him away from him _forever_. No Russians. No mobsters. No prisoners. No undead. Not yet.

One corner of Murphy's mouth moved up a bit.

"Everybody dies. Sooner or later."

Connor kept staring at him like that.

"Don' die _before me_ " he added and Murphy fell quiet. Connor sighed and turned around so he was fully facing his sibling. He put both his hands in his pockets and just looked at Murphy.

"I know ye can live without me just fine, Murph. I _know_ ye can survive and watch yer ass. I only try t'protect ye from everything cos I know that –I- can't survive and live without ye. I never could. So just promise that ye don' die before me, and I'll try ta stop all tha crap."

"I promise ye if ye promise me something as well" Murphy said after a while, although he knew that the following wasn't exactly fair.

"Aye?"

"Don' go further down this path" he requested and knew that Connor knew what he meant because the look on his siblings face changed. He knew it was mean and unfair, but just like Connor he wanted to keep his newfound sibling safe. He wanted to protect him from getting hurt, from getting condemned to hell and punished for such a sin. It went against their beliefs he just knew they shared. They had the same tattoos, and somehow this belief was so embedded in his bones, his soul, the one thing he'd never forgotten and where he was sure that Connor shared it with him. _Be righteous, my brother. Do the right thing. Do what we've been taught._ _Be good and love our god and just him._

Connor then let out a nervous chuckle and looked at his feet.

"Ye know I can't promise tha, Murph" he admitted, because he suddenly realized that he actually _wanted_ to do that.

"Aye" Murphy said sadly, although he was still determined to change that. "And ye know I can't promise ye that I won' die, either" he added, and this time he was a tiny bit upset because it was true. He knew it would destroy Connor, knew that this was his greatest fear, but he just couldn't lie to him, wouldn't lie to him, even if the truth was so cruel. But their world was just too dangerous, immune or not. He'd experienced that first hand multiple times, just like yesterday night when just for a second he'd thought that those strangers had found him all alone inside that bookstore. He'd never be save. He could die any minute. Everybody could.

"Aye" Connor said, swallowing hard, eyes locking once more, then he turned around and finally left the apartment. And this time, Murphy didn't hear the sound of a key locking the door tight. It stayed opened, unlocked and Connor's footsteps got quieter which each step he took down the stairs.

* * *

"Couldn't wake me up before ye left?" Daryl heard his friend say and looked up in surprise.

He'd chosen this spot right here on purpose, to somewhat keep himself hidden from Connor and his brother for a while but of course - the stupid leprechaun would always find him. Daryl raised his head to face the Irishman, and he was actually surprised to see that it was just Connor. No Murphy. No Rick or anyone else - it was just the two of them here by this corner, under the tree in the backyard of one of the houses.

He'd thought that maybe Connor would visit their old apartment which they had shared, find it empty and assume that he'd gone out hunting. But of course - the guy knew that this right here was his favourite little place to 'hide' the only large tree he 'abused' to get some branches and cut some more arrows for his crossbow.

This was his early morning ritual and Connor knew it - the sharpening of his arrows, the cutting some new ones, the cleaning and taking care of his crossbow, gun and knife. He did that every morning before he left town to hunt or patrol or just wander around.

The hunter blinked and looked at his friend, who was standing in front of him, one hand in his pockets, the other grabbing the cigarette which he had in his mouth.  
Daryl snorted and looked back at his arrows again so he could keep cutting the new one.

"Figured yah could use that, leprechaun" he mumbled and got rid of some bark that had landed on his knee. He then blew some air at the tip of his sharpened stick and added "Yah gonna go look for yah bro now?"

Connor just chuckled and tapped the ash of his cigarette while he blew out some smoke.

"Y'know, little shit was sitting right on me bed earlier this morning. Like nothing fuckin happened."

"So. He's back then" Daryl muttered and kept concentrating on his arrow. It was quiet for a while until Connor suddenly grabbed the arrow to stop his friend from going on.

"I know what ye did, alright. He told me."

Daryl raised his head to look at his friend with a frown. Oh right, here it was. The part that he'd tried to avoid. The whole thanks and compliments blablabla. He still didn't have a clue how to respond to stuff like that, what to do, so he tried to free the arrow from Connor's hand so he could keep working. He just snorted gently and looked at the wooden thing in his hand.

"Just crossed paths out there's all."

"Aye, sure" Connor said because he didn't believe it.

"Your bro's a real piece of work though" Daryl said and tried to change the topic, to keep his friend from thanking him. He pointed at Connor with his arrow.  
"Kid got his ass lost out there. Real leprechaun like. Potato as brains."

Connor chuckled and turned around a bit to look in the general direction of his and Murphy's apartment with a smirk.

"Well, guess this is kinda my fault. Spoiled te brat too much with all me being in charge and leading the way thing all te time."

"Yeah, sounds like yah" Daryl mumbled and Connor smirked even more. He moved a bit and kicked his friend's legs gently.

"Well, ye can teach 'im how ta find his way 'round the woods of Georgia if ye want. Like ye did with me back on te farm."

"Pff, wild horses couldn' make me do that shit twice" Daryl said, because the sheer _idea_ of doing _anything_ with the kid was completely absurd.

He still looked back up again to check if the guy was serious, but Connor was grinning at him, obviously thinking the same thing. _As if._  
And once again he couldn't fight it - the urge to smile back. Really smile. But when the Irishman then started grinning he just shook his head and quickly looked down again.

"Dumbass. Gonna be..." but he didn't get the chance to finish the sentence, because Connor then suddenly leaned down to hugged him.

Daryl instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and flinched. He hated this sort of reaction and really didn't want to react like that, but this sort of thing just always happened whenever somebody tried to invade his personal space so abruptly and without asking him first. Connor froze for a second but then continued the motion, fully leaning in and then wrapping his arms around the hunter a bit clumsily. Daryl just sat there, momentarily turned into stone and just endured the hug.

"Thanks fer bringing him back 'n doin all tha shit fer me all te time" Connor said and even buried his face in his shoulder for a moment, which really freaked Daryl out once again.

It wasn't like they _weren't_ close. They had hugged before. Hell, they had done _much_ more intimate stuff by now. And he liked that if he was honest. But they were usually drunk when they got touchy like that, and now they weren't drunk at all. Even worse. They were pretty much out in the freaking open. They were freaking guys. Guys weren't meant to do sentimental crap like that. Anyone could see them any second. He knew that his friend had always been a physical person, but even now he still couldn't understand _why_ he had to be like that. And yet here they were. Hugging. Not fighting. Not yelling at each other. With no Murphy between them.

Daryl finally tried to hug back for a second, and he was still a bit tense, shaky and insecure, but right then it was too late anyway, because Connor pulled away again.

"Well, this was awkward" the blonde muttered and acknowledged the fact that even when they hugged they were terrible and clumsy at the whole thing.

"But..." he said and then stopped smirking and laughing and got more serious again.

"Fer real. I just wanted t'make it clear - thank ye" he then added and turned around a bit to take another drag on his cigarette.

Daryl just looked at his friend for a while, chewing on the inner side of his cheek, until he nodded gently.

"Yah welcome."

Connor looked at him and then nodded as well.

"Good."

"Hmhm."

The Irishman then raised an eyebrow and snorted.

"Jeez" he muttered and dropped the cigarette on the ground to put it out.

"We're fuckin awful at hanging out if we got nothing ta fight or argue about" he noticed and Daryl smirked and then chuckled a bit as well.

"No shit."

Connor let out a heartfelt sigh and then put both his hands back in his pockets.

"So what's te plan fer t'day, Legolas? I gotta talk about some stuff with Murphy first, but I thought we could meet up and do shit t'gether later."

Daryl raised an eyebrow as well and just looked at Connor for a while, growing suspicious, not really liking the whole thing.

"What?" the blonde asked with a frown and then looked a bit pissed as well.

Daryl snorted and looked down while shaking his head.

"Nothin. Don't strain yahself. Yah might break something."

Connor just frowned even more.

" _What_?"

Daryl frowned as well and pointed at his friend again.

"Yah ain't gotta do this...crap. Pretend like yah suddenly got the guts t'stay away from your bro for more than five mins and like yah really wanna do something _without_ emo kid, now that he's back."

"Oh fuck ye, I mean this fer real. Yer snapping at me and blame me fer leaving ye alone, but when I wanna do something with you ye gotta be a fuckin dick about it. Make up yer mind fer once. Ye wanna hang out or not?" Connor complained and then kicked Daryl's leg, for which he earned an angry glare.

"Nope" Daryl instantly said, still frowning angrily but slowly finding the whole thing amusing again.

"Never did, in fact, yah just never got that in that thick Irish skull'a yours."

"Fine, fuck yerself then" Connor growled and turned around to leave again, and Daryl tried his hardest not to laugh because it was so freaking easy to get their tempers crashing together like bombs.

"Yah gonna cry again?" Daryl yelled after his friend and Connor raised his middle finger in the air, stating one big 'Fuck you'.

"Hey leprechaun!" the hunter then added and even got up. Connor finally turned around and looked really angry and tired of this whole thing yet again, and just for a moment Daryl tried to keep the act up.

"Yah lost yah purse, drama queen" he even said and pointed at some random spot between them.

Connor even looked down and then back up again, momentarily just glaring at the hunter, like he seriously considered getting into yet another fight with him, but then he just snorted.

"Fuckin blow me, man. Asshole" he said and finally understood that Daryl had been playing him all along. Which was kind of weird and confusing, since _he_ was usually the prankster in their relationship. But here they were, and for pretty much the first time in their relationship _Daryl_ had been the one to have him on. The hunter smirked a bit as well and then got back to his arrows with a shrug.

"Same here, paddy."

Connor relaxed and just smirked even more.

"Buncha beers and cigs and the late watch shift t'night?"

Daryl shrugged and kept looking at his arrow.

"If Emo Kid ain't coming."

Connor nodded and looked away, pretending that he wasn't too interested in the conversation either.

"I can arrange that, aye" he said and then spat on the ground, all casually and 'cool'.

"Good."

"Good."

There was a long pause as Daryl already considered the conversation and Connor's visit done. But the Irishman just stood there for a while, watching him, lost in thoughts. The hunter decided to ignore him on purpose and not ask what was up, because he seriously wanted to be left alone now. He nearly stabbed himself in his palm when he heard the next sentence.

"Ye wanna fuck t'night?"

Daryl nearly dropped his freaking crossbow and stared at the Irishman in disbelief, the look on his face saying it all.

_What. the. fuck. Did you just say._

Connor just looked at him a little while longer. Face serious. Waiting for an answer. But Daryl just kept staring at him in disbelief, embarrassment and confusion showing in his face until the Irishman finally burst out laughing.

"Yer fuckin face, man" he giggled and then turned around to go back to Murphy, head thrown back and properly laughing at the sky by now.

"Fuckin classic" he cackled and kept walking, and for a moment Daryl really considered shooting him _in his fucking ass_ with his crossbow.

"Asshole" he just snarled with an angry headshake and got back to his weapons.


	11. Story Time

Connor didn't get the chance to go back inside the apartment he now shared with Murphy, because he could already find his sibling outside. He wasn't exactly surprised to see that his brother was incapable of staying in one place for too long, but in the end he was still surprised because it hadn't been that long since he'd left Murphy to talk to Daryl.

But his sibling was right there, standing by the traffic island that separated the two lanes of Woodbury's main street. Murphy was talking to Carol there, who had baby Judith on her lap with Carl right next to her. For just a minute Connor stayed where he was and watched his sibling talk, smile and laugh. He had no idea what he was talking about, who had started the conversation and what he wanted from Carol or what Carol wanted from him, but he kind of liked the fact that his sibling was already bonding with members of their group.

He even talked to Carl from time to time, which wasn't exactly too surprising either, considering that the kid and his mother (he kind of missed Lori and he still felt guilty whenever he thought about Carl's mom) had been the first people to talk to him as well and welcome him in their group when they had found him in the church last year.

But truth be told – he was a bit surprised to see that Carol didn't need much time to warm up to Murphy.

Connor remembered their little history together. He and Carol had clashed a bit after he had returned with the bite, recovered but infected. She'd never –really- trusted him. Thought that he was dangerous and could infect others. She had always been afraid of his immunity. So he was a bit surprised to see her smile at Murphy and talk to him although she _knew_ that Murphy was infected as well. But then again.

Carol was very close with Daryl. And Murphy looked like him. So maybe that made it easier for her. And Daryl was exactly the point here when he felt the sudden need to separate them. Carol was Daryl's friend. His special person. So Murphy sure as hell wasn't allowed to get close to her. He'd already seen his friend's face whenever his brother had even dared to look at her.

And another part of Connor knew that Daryl was just a minor reason why he wanted to get Murphy away from Carol, away from everyone that wasn't him. Just like Daryl he was also jealous and didn't want to share. He was sure that Murphy didn't know much about himself, how he'd been back in the old days. But he _knew_ him. Just like him Murphy was a man. A man who wasn't exactly too celibate. Just like him Murphy had given in to women every now and then.

And what a little devil the shit could be. Sure, Murphy was shier than him. Quieter. Especially around women. _He_ was always the cocky one, thriving with self-awareness. He knew exactly about his own charm, his looks and how to play that card. However, Murphy could be really awkward. He usually just lived life and didn't think too much.

Murphy was just there, unaware of his impact on others, all carefree and simple. He was physical, real and less cunning than him. And this was exactly the thing about Murphy that drew women to him. And damn him if he didn't know that his fucking _little_ brother was better with women than him. Connor'd had more encounters, but sure as hell a lot more slaps in his face and a lot more covert words of disappointment than his sibling.

Murphy could be the Daryl Carol wanted, _and why the fuck was she smiling at him like that now?_

_No, no no. He didn't like this at all._

Connor quickly started walking and tried to act all nonchalant, although he was boiling with jealousy right now.

"Murph, there ye're" he said and tried to smile, to hide his protectiveness which Murphy hated and which he had promised to both his brother and Daryl he was going to control now.

Murphy turned around to look at him for a moment and instantly picked up on his brother's mood though. He wasn't exactly happy to see that, but decided to leave it be in front of Carol and Carl, so he stayed quiet. Connor was finally standing right next to him and smiled at his sibling, gently patting his back and then looking at the others.

"Oh hey fellas. Carol. Carl" he greeted them and then waved at Rick's baby with a happy smile on his face.

"Judy" he said, even pinching her little cheek tenderly, which made her giggle.

Everyone had to chuckle because her reaction was kind of cute, and even Murphy had to smirk although Connor pissed him off a bit.

"I see yer getting t'know our dear Murph right here" the older of the two MacManus twins said to Carol and still tried to hide his jealousy and curiosity.  
Carol nodded with a smile and then adjusted Judith's hat.

"We were just talking about the library and story time" she informed Connor and then stroke Judith's head.

Connor raised his eyebrows and the moment Murphy saw the corners of his mouth twitch he tried to say something before it was too late.

"It's not…"

But of course it was already too late. Connor started chuckling.

"Story time? I see, does he want ta join yer boys club, Carl?" he cackled and nudged Rick's son, who just shifted but wouldn't laugh or even smile.

"Better give him a club card and everything, little badges…" the older Irishman started ranting, full on enjoying the fact that he could embarrass someone.  
Only Carol was smiling. Murphy looked furious and tried to explain himself, Carl acted surprisingly mature.

"I've never been to story time. That's for the kids" he simply stated, his hand rested on his gun, watching over his little sister like a hawk. Which was kind of a bit freaky, considering that when Connor had met the kid a year ago, he'd been a whole lot more childish. He tried to ignore the fact that Carl had changed so much and kept joking, ignoring everyone and fully enjoying himself now.

"'m not joining a fuckin kid's club, I was just trying…" Murphy complained but Connor kept going.

"Little pack of books with _Where's Waldo_ and _Ballet Shoes_ and…. _Dancing Shoes_ and…"

"I said I ain't joining some fockin kid's club!" Murphy roared and punched Connor's shoulder hard, because he was beyond embarrassed.  
Not only because his brother was such a dick in front of other people and tearing him to shreds, but also because reading was a very sensitive topic for Connor wouldn't stop he finally had enough.

"Fuck you!" he shouted, punched Connor's arm once more and then walked away.

Connor still chuckled, his voice strained from trying not to laugh, as he turned around and tried to reach out for his sibling.

"Murph, just relax, it was a fuckin joke, alright?" he said but still chuckled a bit, although that was slowly dying now that his sibling was leaving and seemed to be pissed off.

"Murph, wait!"

But Murphy kept walking.

"Fuck" Connor breathed and tried to go after him, but right then Carol spoke up.

"Connor, wait" she said and then sat up while handing Judith over to Carl.

The Irishman turned his head in surprise and looked at her.

"Aye?"

Carol made sure that Judith was secure first and then sorted her clothes.

"Can we talk? It's important."

Connor was still a bit surprised. Although Carol was really close with Daryl they didn't have too much to do with each other. She usually only talked to Daryl or Hershel, and he honestly had no idea what she could possibly want from him. Sure, they got along, they were both part of the 'council' and sometimes they talked, but not too much.

The Irishman turned around to look after his brother, who was heading for the wall. For a moment Connor widened his eyes in shock and wanted to run after him, thinking that his sibling would jump the wall and leave. But much to his surprise Murphy wouldn't do that. He walked right up to the wall but then turned left, heading for the patch of grass there that Rick used to build his own garden.

Murphy even went so far and grabbed one of the rakes and started hacking at the ground. Rick slowed down his own work and watched the younger MacManus in surprise, quite taken aback by the fact that someone was entering his garden and helping him without his permission. Murphy even seemed to say something to him, but then he started working. Whether Rick wanted him to or not.

And Connor relaxed a bit. Murphy wasn't leaving, wasn't jumping the wall. He was obviously just blowing off some steam by trying to make himself useful. Without permission, but still. Connor sighed and turned his head to look back at Carol with a nod.

"Sure" he muttered, feeling a bit sorry about having angered his sibling like that. But he was already used to Murphy's temper again and knew that it wouldn't take much for his twin to calm down again. Hopefully. He looked in his direction every couple of seconds though, just in case.

"In private?" Carol then asked and started walking away from Carl, who was busy with Judith.

The request confused Connor even more, but he kept walking and followed her into the alley which he and Daryl had also used to talk yesterday.

"So?" Connor asked when they both kind of disappeared between the houses, while he still tried to keep an eye on Murphy, which was kind of hard now.

"Promise me you won't tell Rick about this. Or Daryl" she said first, and finally got Connor's attention. He looked down at her in surprise.

"What?"

_This didn't sound too good._

Carol snorted softly.

"Relax. It's not _so_ bad."

Connor still didn't look too convinced and raised an eyebrow for a while. He then let out a gentle sigh.

"Alright. Ye got me. Shoot."

"Rick can't know about this. And you can't tell Daryl because he's going to be on Rick's side" she said once more, like it was really important.

Connor snorted.

"Like most of te time. He's a bit dumb in tha regard. I think he's got a crush on te guy" he joked a bit and tried to un-awkward the situation by now, but Carol stayed determined and serious.

"I need your help with story time" Carol said and Connor blinked, completely dumbfounded.

"'scuse me?"

Carol sighed angrily.

"It's not really story time. I'm trying to teach the kids how to defend themselves. The library and fairy tales are just my way of covering it up" she informed him, obviously a bit impatient and disappointed that he didn't get what she wanted right away.

" _What_?" Connor asked in utter disbelief.

Sure. He'd been gone for a while. But they'd been in Woodbury for a couple of months before that. During Daryl's healing process. And story time plus all the other town meetings and clubs and ideas had been there right from the beginning. Some even from before their time when the Governor had still been here. So he was quite surprised to hear that story time wasn't story time at all, that something as big as this had been going on without him or anyone else noticing.

"Carol, why te fuck are ye making this a fucking mystery? Rick should…"

"Rick isn't who he used to be. If he knew about this he would call it off. I'm doing what needs to be done" Carol interrupted him and looked him in the eye.

"And I need someone to help me there. You've never been a big fan of Rick's decisions. Neither have I. So I need _your_ help."

Connor just looked at her for a while, really unsure what to do or say. But she kept talking anyway.

"You were the one to teach Carl how to shoot back on the farm. You taught him much of the things that kept him alive inside the prison. Lori trusted you and asked both you and me to keep her children safe. I'm only trying to extend this promise and apply it to _all_ the children."

The Irishman let out a soft sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Carol, I…"

"No. You're part of the council. You got some say in this town after the battle at the prison, whether you like it or not. Before you left with Daryl you were already on the teaching crew. You taught them…"

"I taught them useless shit like maths and languages. I taught them the word of god, alright. Jesus, listen t'yerself, woman" Connor interrupted her and stared her down. "That's fuckin child soldier material right here. The shit this Governor dude tried ta do when he was here. Don't ye remember that there were fucking kids running around with guns in their hands during the prison shoot-out? That some of them got shot?"

"Who didn't get hurt these days? Learning how to use guns is what kept them alive!" she even snapped now and both fell quiet for a while.

Carol swallowed hard and look away.

"It's what could've kept my Sophia alive" she said, gentlier this time, and then looked at him once again.

"You were right about what you told Rick before the battle. We're all just civilians who do not know much about fighting and wars. But you do. _You_ were the one to guide us through this war. Not Rick. You've got experience. I might not agree with some of your former life choices, but I do believe that our kids could benefit from you just like Carl did."

Connor looked at her for a while, still not knowing what he was supposed to do. Of course he kind of agreed with her there. He'd been very young when his uncle had taught him and Murphy how to shoot. This knowledge had saved his life even before the apocalypse. And although Carl was a bit creepy now, the kid could handle himself pretty well. He knew that sooner or later their perfect little world with their white fence would collapse just like the farm with the herd of walkers, or just like the prison with the war.

The kids should be prepared. Hell, if he, Murphy and Daryl had been injured and almost died more than once, then the kids were in some serious danger and needed to be prepared. And his parental side came back to life, like every single time he remembered the fact that they had kids here. Kids who needed to survive, kids who needed to be protected but also needed to protect themselves and each other.

" You weren't there yesterday when the walls nearly gave in. Should walkers ever manage to break through then we _all_ need to be ready to defend ourselves. All I'm asking is for you to keep quiet about this. And to teach the children basic things about guns. I'm good with knives, but they should know their way around other weapons as well. We can still tell them stories and teach them languages after that."

"Jesus" Connor sighed and thought about it for a while. He put both his hands on his hips and chewed on his lower lip.

"What age-group are we talkin 'bout?"

"Most of them are about Carl's age."

Connor snorted.

"Most of 'em" he repeated and walked around a bit.

Carol just waited for his answer.

"Let me..just think about it fer a couple of days, alright?" he finally answered. Carol looked disappointed and maybe even a bit angry.

"Just…"

"I won't tell Rick or Daryl, I won't. Fuck…" Connor interrupted her and rubbed his forehead with an angry sigh. "When I told ye yer real tough I didn't mean it like that" he mumbled and then finally looked at her again.

"I'll get in touch with ye."

* * *

Connor walked up to Murphy, who didn't look angry anymore. Which was kind of funny, considering that _he_ was the moody one now. Carol had kind of spoiled his good mood with her epic truth bomb, and he sure wasn't too sure what he was supposed to do about it. Tell Daryl about it? Tell Rick? He snorted softly when he saw Rick in his garden, staring at tomatoes and talking to Murphy about freaking _gardening_. Carol was right about one thing – Rick so wasn't old Rick anymore.

Rick. Carol. Woodbury and all of its problems like the herd that was close by and the walkers that were still piling up on their walls, some of them _once again_. He didn't want to deal with that shit now. He tried to focus on Murphy now, his sibling who had returned, his sibling who was eating one of the tomatoes and then tried to adjust one of the tendrils with tender and yet clumsy, shaky fingers.

Which made Connor smile happily. Murphy was with him, and just for a moment he was all that mattered. He'd talked to Carol, talked to Rick and the council, talked to god and Daryl. His friend, who he had come to good terms earlier and who he was going to visit later today. Right now he had all the time he wanted, and he sure as hell was going to spend it with his sibling.

"It was a joke, Murph" he greeted his sibling, continuing the conversation they'd had before the thing with Carol. Murphy looked up in surprise and then frowned a bit. He still looked a bit angry, but Murphy wouldn't be Murphy if he didn't have the attention span of a gold-fish. His sibling would always be forgiving, would always get distracted easily and forget about most things, and he would never _really_ bear a grudge.

"And I wasn' going ta join fuckin story time" Murphy simply said and looked back at Rick and the tomatoes. Connor tensed at the mention of that, because story time was no longer funny or innocent, it was a code word. An unpleasant one. Especially around Rick, who was so clueless. A clueless farmer. Connor watched their leader for a while, and the policeman seemed to pick up on that because he looked back at him after a while.

"Murphy was just offering to help me with the garden on a regular basis" he said, maybe thinking that Connor didn't like that his brother was with him. "We still haven't assigned a job for him yet, but when he told me about your days at your farm in Ireland, it got the both of us thinking…I could use a hand, actually. And the knowledge. Hershel isn't exactly in his best shape to do some more farming now. And we need fresh food."

Connor watched the both of them for a moment, especially Murphy, who was still brooding a bit and trying to punish him with silence after his stupid joking about the topic they had not really talked about yet- Murphy's desire to really be able to read and write again after the headshot had caused him so much trouble, the headshot Connor was responsible for. But Connor was clueless there, he had no idea that this was the reason why Murphy was angry, that this was the reason he had offered Rick to help.

Sometimes he felt useless because of some of his handicaps, he wanted to help, wanted to be useful, and since Connor wouldn't let him go outside and since he sure as hell didn't want to put up with their constant fights over this and Connor's craziness there he had decided to do the both of them a favour - work on something inside Woodbury that was both useful and –to please Connor and to be left alone – harmless.

"Ye remember that?" Connor asked, in regards to Murphy telling Rick about their life on the farm in Ireland.  
Once again Murphy gave him an angry glare and Connor only just realized his mistake now.

"Ye told me 'bout it" the younger MacManus reminded his sibling of their first night together here in Woodbury, when Connor had told him countless things about them. The older MacManus twin nodded.

"Aye. Right."

He thought about it for a while, what Rick had told him, and then came to the conclusion that it was a good idea and the obvious thing to do. Everyone had jobs here in Woodbury. Something to keep the community going, to keep the town working and in good shape. Just like Carol had said it - he'd been teaching the kids school stuff because it had been his personal wish and desire to settle down for a bit before he and Daryl had headed for Augusta.

For a while he had been part of that and he'd helped Hershel in their improvised church, but now that he was back he wasn't too sure what he was going to do now. If he wanted to help Carol, join Daryl on his hunting and patrolling trips, if he wanted to stay with the supply runners although he had screwed this up for Taylor, whatever he was going to do – everyone had a job. And as long as Murphy stayed inside Woodbury and wouldn't join the supply runners or hunters and scavengers he was completely fine with it. Especially if it involved plants and _nothing_ bloody.

"Gardening. Good idea. We could also go back t'taking care of the animals. We got te piglets and the horse, right?" Connor said and it only just hit him now. The sudden possibilities.

His old life.

Ireland.

Just like back on the farm he and Murphy could take care of animals and fields. They could have horses again. Maybe even a dog.

Fuck, this could be so brilliant.

"Yeah" Rick agreed with a smile, obviously liking that someone didn't try to talk him out of his gardening trip and back into his role as a leader.

"Hershel and I even talked about going back to his farm, see what's left there. We could really get this town going. Become self-sufficient."

Connor nodded once more, eyes still fixed on Murphy and waiting for him to look at him or talk to him again.

"Aye, good idea. I could help ye there if ye want. Get that stuff back."

"Guess ye need a pass then if ye wanna join our club" Murphy suddenly retorted and Connor looked at him in surprise. Murphy still wouldn't look at him and kept his eyes fixed on the plants, but then a smirk slowly broke through and both siblings finally started chuckling. Connor nudged him gently but Murphy avoided his touch, once again making it clear that they still weren't back to their old relationship. The older of the two let out a gentle sigh and put both his hands in his pockets.

"Ye got a minute, Murph?"

Murphy looked at him with a frown, like he honestly considered saying 'no', but then he turned his head to look at Rick, who looked back at him and then smiled a bit.

"Knock yourself out."

Murphy got up and tried to get rid of the dirt on his jeans.  
He then grabbed the cigarette which he had kept behind his ear and followed Connor, who was leading him away from the garden.

"Bye, Sheriff" he said, once again coming to the conclusion that he kind of liked the guy. And his kids.

Connor smiled and turned his head to look at his sibling.

"Already making friends, then, aren'tche" he noticed and Murphy snorted after lightening his cigarette and blowing out some smoke.

"Gotta be, considering that ye dragged me away from te ones I already had in Savannah" he muttered and Connor looked straight ahead again.

"Right."

Murphy scratched his lip and then chewed on it, regretting his choice of words a bit.

"Sorry" he then said and Connor shrugged.

"Yer right."

They just started walking around for a while, because Connor knew that Murphy liked it outside, liked to watch, explore, and see.  
He just wanted to enjoy his presence, his company, but he also wanted them to talk.  
To get to know each other again, now that they were back together.

"He just kinda reminds me of someone" Murphy kept talking, throwing him a bone, much to Connor's surprise.

"Who, Rick?" he asked and looked back at their leader.

Murphy nodded and blew some more smoke in the air.

"Aye."

There was silence for a while, and Connor got curious.

"D'ye know who he reminds ye of? Is it someone from…y'know? Our life before..well."

Murphy shook his head and scratched his head with a quiet "Mhmh".

He let Connor wait for an answer for a bit longer and then finally talked.

"Keith. Simmons. Te guy from the Boston quarantine zone. Who took me in and brought me t'Augusta. I told ye about him" he muttered and Connor nodded.  
He remembered the name, remembered the vague story, but Murphy hadn't told him much about what he'd been up to during the past year.

Murphy twirled his finger around in the air as he explained it a bit more.

"Rick kinda got the same vibe as him, y'know. The ' _I'm n honest, good guy, ye can trust me'_ thing. Like Simmons. Makes it easier t'trust people."

Connor nodded.

"Well, aye, he was a cop after all."

Another pause, and then Connor chuckled softly.

"Fer a second I thought ye was gonna say that Rick reminds ye of Smecker. Or the trio."

Silence from Murphy. He did frown a bit, like he was trying to concentrate really hard, but the younger twin wouldn't say anything.  
It was obvious that the names didn't ring any bells, didn't make him see familiar faces.

"Smecker and the trio were the ones who helped us a lot" Connor said to help Murphy remember. "FBI agents and got us outta prison. It's just kinda funny cos Smecker was gay and had the..y'know. _Attitude_ about 'im. Which Rick doesn't have at all. But I was just picturing that fer a minute. Smecker Rick. Tah" Connor chuckled sadly to himself, being the only one left to really remember Smecker and the crew. "He was a good man" he finished his talk, his little memoriam, and Murphy just brooded, once again obviously pissed and angry with himself because he just _couldn't_ remember. Connor, who was already fully back into his brother role, had not much trouble tuning into his siblings thoughts and picked up on that.

"Yer gonna remember all of 'em. Just give it time" he tried to calm him down.

"'M not gonna fuckin remember shit, alright. This isn' fuckin Emergency Room" Murphy snapped, a little bit too harsh, which silenced Connor once again.  
The blonde's mouth became a harsh, pale line and Murphy knew what his sibling thought, so he relaxed a bit.

"'s been a year, Con. I just can't, alright" he added, softer this time, regretting it as well. He hated that he couldn't remember, wanted to remember, but they had to be honest about it – this really wasn't some TV show. This wasn't like on TV at all. Sure, they had gotten one miracle, the miraculous surviving of a headshot and being immune to a global disease, but this was where their luck ended, where reality got them. Because the pain was real. Because the aftermath was real. Because the problems were real and painful and frustrating.

"'s the reason why I wanted t'talk ta you earlier. And why I talked t'Carol about the library and tha story time thing of hers" Murphy said and smoked once more, calming his nerves, preparing himself for the confession, and then looking at Connor. "Y'know about my other problems, right" he muttered and wouldn't look at Connor anymore, because this was a very delicate topic. It embarrassed him, but they needed to talk about this. And oh how could Connor forget about everything he'd heard Murphy say in Doctor Steven's office. Ever last detail, every little description of the things HE had destroyed in Murphy with one tiny bullet and the wrong choice.

"Aye" Connor said quickly and looked away as well.

He still had a hard time forgiving himself, still felt like shit whenever he had to talk about it instead of pretending that he was alright and that nothing had happened.

"Someone needs t'teach me how ta read 'n write properly" Murphy said, and once again felt like crap as well.  
He felt like an idiot and automatically rubbed the scar on his forehead, hard, although it hurt, wanting to make it disappear.

"I mean I can do some of it, if I concentrate and…well…oh fuck I just can't fucking do it well enough and someone needs ta fuckin teach me again. 'm not an idiot."

Connor nodded eagerly.

"Aye. Aye. 'f course yer not an idiot, Murph. We're gonna do that" he said but still wouldn't look at Murphy, and Murphy wouldn't look at him either.

"Don't worry. Everything's gonna be fine. 'm gonna teach ye and yer gonna be just fine."

"Stop sayin that, 'm no fuckin baby" Murphy grumbled stubbornly and took another frustrated drag on his cigarette.

"Aye."

"Aye, indeed" Murphy growled and there was silence once again.

But the younger MacManus did indeed feel a bit better now. Sure, the whole thing had been embarrassing and pretty stupid. He'd always tried to keep it from everyone around him because it was so embarrassing, _especially_ around Keith and the others. Being 30 something and pretty much illiterate because of some stupid headshot. But now that he was with Connor and since Connor was his family…well, maybe he finally had the guts to admit it.

Although he hardly knew him he still trusted him. Could trust him more than anyone else although the guy had once shot him and he'd been so eager to hate him for the rest of his life. But here he was now – already admitting his greatest weakness to him. And damn did that feel liberating. Because he knew that Connor wouldn't pity him or think of him as poor victim. The guy was too busy blaming and hating himself to feel anything else whenever it came to that topic.

And this was exactly what Connor was doing right now. The talk didn't make him feel better but worse, no matter how much he appreciated that Murphy was so honest about it. But it made him hate himself even more, made him struggle even more, because once again the demons in his head yelled only one thing at him. _This is all your fault. Your bullet did this to him. You pulled the trigger._

Mocking him. Blaming him. Singing the same shit over and over again. _  
_

"'m sorry, Murph" he automatically said.

Murphy took his sweet time to take the cigarette out of his mouth, blow some more smoke in the air and then he used his free hand to slap the back of Connor's head hard. He wouldn't say anything even when Connor asked "What te fuck was that for?". He just stared at his sibling and shook his head, letting the slap sink in.

_Stop saying that. Dumbass. You're stuck with me now, no matter how guilty that makes you. Suck it up and correct your own mistakes and stop being a whiny baby about it.  
_

* * *

Daryl wasn't exactly surprised to see their reactions. Hell, he'd pull the same face if someone else brought a stranger with them like that, suggesting that they should take him in. _It was all a bit shady, but what else should he've done? Let the guy keep walking like that? All on his own? With just a tiny backpack on his back and no real gun?_

Fuck, he knew it was stupid, but the guy hadn't exactly given him an other choice.

It also didn't help that he kind of reminded him of Connor.

Certainly not his looks. He was African-American for a start. Not Irish. Not a leprechaun. Not annoying. But, he still reminded him of Connor when they had found the guy. Haggard. Lonely. Sad look on his face. Depressed. Out in the open, kind of surrounded by walkers, obviously ready to die. Daryl's new-found soft spot.

And the most hilarious thing about the guy.

His name was _Bob_.

Bob.  
The name Connor had given the old grumpy man in Augusta.

But here _he_ was. The real Bob. The lonely stranger. The lonely man who had been walking down an empty street under the burning sun, no cover, no weapon, no back-up. With an obvious history to him. A depressing one. It had been some sort of deja-vu. So of course he'd been forced to slow down and take the guy with him. Because his mind kept telling him – this could've been Connor. Just think about who Connor could've become if you'd driven past him as well.

So he'd taken _Bob_ with him.

And the fact that the guy could help him carry the supplies and meat was also a big bonus.

Because that's what he'd been doing out there before meeting Bob. Daryl had gone out after his little talk with Connor, to get his mind off things (and the stupid offer). He'd gone out with his newly sharpened arrows to hunt, to scout, to patrol. He'd even managed to shoot a large venison this time. Certainly a good feast. And then he'd encountered the newbie who he'd decided to take with him.

There was much fuss at first. Of course there was. Some people didn't want the guy inside, there were some arguments, and Daryl was a bit pissed because Connor wasn't there to side with him and help him. But of course, Connor was probably hanging out with Murphy, and that god knows where, so he had to deal with the whole Bob issue on his own. After hours of arguing he finally managed to somewhat flee, at least after having made sure that his venison was secured and ready to eat for diner. Daryl just wandered back to his apartment, maybe secretly looking for Connor, but the guy was really nowhere in sight.

Which kind of pissed him off.

He knew it was stupid to be jealous, to feel left out. Especially after having talked to Connor just a couple of hours earlier, when they'd agreed to meet up later tonight, to take over watch and enjoy each other's company.

But still.

This was really the first day where he hadn't seen Connor at all, for more than 6 hours. It was kind of his fault, this was also true, because he'd kind of avoided him earlier and then left to go on a hunting trip on his own. He'd even gone back to visit Merle's grave. Be with him for a bit instead. He'd wanted that, the space, the ability to brood and be pissed, to be alone, but now he had to agree that it kind of sucked.

He just wasn't used to it anymore. He was used to having the leprechaun around.

And then there was _king_ Murphy…. He gritted his teeth and shook his head.

Nah.

Maybe he just needed to get himself some more friends, too. He knew that he was capable of that. It sure would take a long time to let anyone in, but it couldn't do any harm, right? Maybe he should spend some more time with the others as well. Carol. Glenn…Rick.

Bob.

He knew it was pathetic, but this was another reason why he had taken the guy with him. One: to get some help with his venison, two: because the guy had been all on his own and three: maybe they could become buddies. And it wasn't such a bad idea, really. Everyone around here knew each other already. And although he did appreciate his group and would die for them – he considered everyone his family, not just as friends.

He also didn't want to become friends with any of the people from Woodbury, considering that they had onced watched him and Merle 'fight to the death'. So no new friends in Woodbury, no matter how many new faces there really were. But he still wanted a buddy of his own. Someone new. Someone no one else knew. Where he got a new chance to get to know someone just like everybody else and try his luck.

Rick had always been kind of a friend, but he knew that he couldn't give Rick what he really needed (a former friend like Shane for example, he wasn't like Shane), and Rick couldn't be who he needed, because Rick was their leader, someone he considered his superior. The boss. But he needed _an equal_. Like Connor had once been. An equal loner. A moody loner with a fucked up past. Someone he could relate to.

_Well. He had Bob now, right?_

He turned his head in the general direction of the town hall, where the council was already talking to the guy, who looked pretty miserable and would glance back at him every once in a while.

 _Yeah, he had saved the guy's life._  
  
Daryl snorted and shook his head.

He knew that this shit wasn't going to work out. The guy was a stranger. Maybe he was bad and maybe he needed to kick him out later. And even if he was a good guy, only god knew if they even had something in common. And even if they had, he didn't know shit about becoming friends with someone. With Connor it had been different, easier, because the guy had forced himself into his life. _Demanded_ to be his friend. Unlike this whole thing right here. He'd never had many friends.

 _Probably should've driven right past the guy_ , he thought to himself and adjusted his crossbow a bit.  
Except that this went against his ' _No one gets left behind and everyone gets a second chance_ ' rule.

_Oh great, this was going to be fun.  
_

* * *

Connor headed for the house in which they kept the supplies, the room they had once used to enter Woodbury when it had still belonged to Woodbury. He had some pretty mixed feelings right now, and he was actually glad that he was going to hang out with Daryl now. His first real day with just Murphy had been...interesting. A lot like their old life in Boston, but also not a lot like their old life in Boston. Murphy was still a moody little shit who loved to critize his everything, his plans, his ideas, his procedures, everything. Someone to lose his temper quickly, to throw a fit and yell and explode and all that shit. Murphy had also always been quieter, more forgiving, and tender.

So those things hadn't really changed. And Connor had embraced them all with a smile on his face because they -all- made him happy because this was Murphy.

But the whole trying to teach him the reading and writing stuff, the trying to make him remember a bunch of things had been pretty straining. Frustrating. Depressing. Because Murphy really was hurt, pretty, pretty damaged even. If it weren't for his giving, strong nature then he'd noticed that more already. But Murphy was a stubborn fighter, a strong one, someone who, if he truly believed in something, could and would move mountains. But no matter how strong Murphy was and how lucky they really were, how -lucky- the shot had turned out.

It was still hard. Very hard.

Which was exactly the reason why Connor needed the little break right now, while Murphy was probably still up there in their apartment trying to scribble shit and read the bible. It would take a long long time to put him together. The older MacManus twin even let out a sad sigh. _If_ they could put him together. Which was still his fault.

He entered the supply storage, head down, still completely lost in thoughts and eager to get a bottle of alcohol to get drunk. Drown his problems and all that.

He really startled when he nearly ran into someone.

"Fuck, geez!" he exclaimed and looked up to see who he'd run into, suspecting that maybe it was Daryl.

But when the other man cursed and shouted just as much he realized that this wasn't his friend at all.

The man dropped something on the ground and spinned around.

"Who the..."

He froze and for a moment both men just looked at each other. Connor was honestly surprised, the man opposite him immediatly narrowed his eyes, gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

Taylor's brother.

Connor let out a sigh and nervously scratched his forehead, avoiding the other's gaze because this was more than unpleasant.

"Terry." he greeted the man, but the other wouldn't say anything. He just stood there, glaring at him, like he was about to murder him.

Connor quickly glanced around, trying to find a bottle of alcohol but also to check if someone else was here but of course, they were all alone.

"Look, I know that..."

"What'd you want" the man snarled, not letting Connor finish.

The Irishman finally really looked him in the eye, trying to be all sincere.

"I was just..." _looking for some booze, don't get your panties in a bunch, alright._ "I just wanted ta say I'm sorry. About what happened t'Taylor. It was real tragic and...ye have my honest condolences. And I'm very sorry how I treated ye yesterday. I should've told ye this earlier. Really. I'm sorry fer yer loss."

Terry snorted angrily and still wouldn't stop glaring at Connor. He even moved a bit closer, his entire body radiating with pure anger and grief.

"Killing people's tragic then."

Connor frowned a bit and felt offended and beyond angry because the guy was still honestly blaming him for his brother's death, but he tried to stay calm.

"Listen, I know it's hard t'see things straight when you just lost yer brother. Trust me, I know that feeling, but ye gotta..."

" _You_ " Terry interrupted Connor once more and moved really close, trying to stare the other man down while Connor tensed and prepared himself for a possible fight.

" _You._ Got your brother back. And then you took my brother. When _he_ was trying to save _your_ ass. You got all yah want, paddy. Brother. Your life, my town..."

Connor snorted.

" _Your_ town? Alright listen, fella. I think yer getting the wrong vibe here. First of all, it's _our_ town. We're one group and we're..."he said and tried to smile, both his hands raised in a soothing gesture and trying to calm the man down, but Terry just wouldn't listen.

What was the most dangerous thing about it was that the other man was so calm. He was tense with his teeth gritted and his fists tight, but he was talking quietly and determined, he wouldn't yell or lash out, although it was more than obvious that he was very furious and even dangerous, and that certainly freaked Connor out a bit. He knew that he would probably win a fight, he was a bit more muscular than Terry and also a bit taller, but still. That was psycho material now, and he'd seen this sort of look before.

"No you listen, _fella_. You're damn right. This is _our_ town. This was our town, before you and your little prison crew destroyed everything. Don't give me your nice guy act, cos I ain't buying it. Never did. I see right through your little gang, right through _you_. If it weren't for you _none_ of our people would've died. Certainly not Taylor. You ever notice the division of labor here? Your boss stays here picking flowers while all of our decent people from Woodbury, _like my brother by the way_ , get sent out on death missions."

"Christ, just listen t'yerself,man and relax! Do ye even hear yerself talk? Our group and yer group had this discussion _months_ ago. And yer brother died because a _walker_ bit him, Terry. I get that it's very hard ta understand cos it's painful ta lose a sibling but _no one_ is ta blame here. Just listen t'me and calm down, alright? A walker wounded him, gutted and infected him, and we all know how we handle..."

"Well, _you_ say a walker infected him, but we both know that you easily could've done it yourself!" Terry finally roared and Connor couldn't breathe for a second because this was getting so _ridiculous_. He huffed and then blinked.

" _What_?"

"Do tell me, if this is really _our_ town, if we're really _one_ community, then when were your people going to tell us about the fact that you're keeping _infected_ with you?" the other man asked and yanked at Connor's arm to twist it around and show him the scar there.

"Ow, Jesus, fuck off and do not fuckin touch me, motherfucker!" Connor spat and shoved the man away.

Before they could get into a fight and before Connor could throw the first punch a voice interrupted them.

"You guys alright?"

They both turned around to look who was disturbing them.

Tyreese was standing in the middle of the room, looking at the both of them with a worried frown.

Connor adjusted his shirt and gave Terry a final angry glare.

"Yeah, everything's _fine_ " he growled and then started walking, past Tyreese, to get back outside.

* * *

**20 minutes later...**

"It's a date!" he heard Connor crow and turned around to see where the guy was. The Irishman was climbing up the ladder they had attached to the overturned bus, and he had a tired grin on his face. He didn't carry any bottles with him which was kind of a shame, but at least he'd really kept his promise. And maybe Daryl was honestly surprised. Sure, they had talked earlier today, agreed to do this shift together, but part of him had doubted that Connor would really show up.

The guy had been gone all day and they really hadn't seen each other all day, and he'd been pretty certain that Connor would stay with his lost-and-found brother to celebrate some more, the Irish way. But here he was, pretty much on time (it wasn't like they knew what time it was, they just took over shifts when they felt like it, when it was getting dark, whatever. Daryl had come here first, pretty early, to let Tyreese and his new girlfriend Karen call it a day.

Daryl snorted with a tiny smirk and then turned around to pace up and down the wall some more.

"Shut up" he just said and waited for Connor to come over.

"Oh right, it's no date anymore. Ye already got yerself a new boyfriend" the blonde said and nudged his friend, now that he was finally standing right beside him.

"So yah've met Bob, then" Daryl said and tried not to smirk, and of course Connor started laughing.

"Aye. I've met ' _Bob_ '" he said and chuckled some more, as the both of them scanned the street for any walkers.  
It was quiet for a moment, then Connor started chuckling yet again.

"Fuckin _Bob_ though, really?"

The hunter finally smirked and looked at his friend for a short moment.

"Yeah, I know."

"Shame he's a medic. Shoulda been a mechanic and I could've called te guy Bob the Builder. Fuck it, 'm still gonna call 'im Bob the Builder. Could give 'im Ty's hammer and everything."

And they both chuckled a bit, remembering the old grumpy man they had met in Augusta a couple of days ago. Connor lit two cigarettes and then handed Daryl one while blowing out some smoke. He even let out a satisfied groan because it felt so good to fill his lungs with smoke after all the shit that had happened earlier. He tried not to think about it, he forced himself to be cheery again. He tried to blend his encounter with Terry out, he just focused on Murphy and Daryl, the two people to make him happy. He even forced himself to keep smiling, to fake happiness.

" Speaking of Bobs, ye think they're still lookin fer us?" he muttered and then took his cigarette between his two fingers, eyes fixed on the road once more.

"Who, the nerd squad from Augusta? You betcha ass" Daryl said and blew some smoke in the air.  
"Ain't no chance they're gonna find us, though."

"Right" Connor said with a gentle nod and scratched the scar on his arm. The stupid immunity was getting more and more dangerous and annoying.  
He sure as hell didn't want anyone to screw around with his brains now because of that. Or Murphy's. They better stay away….

"Even if they do, can just hand McFrybrain over, they leave us alone and we got ourselves a nice little cure on top of that" Daryl went on and Connor frowned.

"Who the fuck's McFrybrain?"

"Emokid" Daryl said and looked back at Connor like he couldn't believe he didn't get the nickname.

Connor looked back at him, a bit pissed at first, but then he shook his head with a snort.

"Yer awful" he said when he finally understood that his friend called his brother that because of the shot to his head.

"He's called Murphy, alright."

"Whatever" Daryl mumbled and then sat down on the camping chair they kept on top of the wall. Connor watch him for a moment and then sat down as well, letting out a gentle sigh and then smoking some more. They just looked straight ahead, immediately enjoying each other's company once again. And Daryl's company really helped Connor to calm down, to relax, to forget about Terry but remember his progress with him and Murphy. To a point where he could finally start smilling again. They smoked in silence until Daryl finally spoke again.

"I thought you were gonna bring booze with yah" he reminded his friend after a while and Connor rubbed his face. Tensing up again, and that right away.

"Aye, well…" Connor muttered and shifted. He then tried to play it down.

"Didn't manage ta get any. Terry was watching the supplies and well…"

Daryl turned his head to look at his friend, who was still massaging his forehead and moving his fingers through his messy hair. It took the hunter a moment, but then he remembered who the fuck Terry was again. Taylor's brother. The one who had punched Connor in the face yesterday.

"He's real fuckin mad at me, man. I don' fuckin get it" Connor finally admitted angrily and shook his head.

"I mean what te fuck was I gonna do, let te guy lie there? I could see his fuckin intestines and liver stick outta him, wasn't like we could've taken him back with us. I told him that I did his brother a favor and what does he do? Look at me like he's about ta fuckin stab me any second" he ranted, saying all the shit he'd wanted to tell Terry before Tyreese had interrupted them. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, because now he was _angry_ again.

"Well, yah shot his bro and he didn' get a chance t'say goodbye. What'd you do if someone did that t'emokid without telling yah?"

"At least I didn' blame anyone else but me when I thought _my_ brother was dead" Connor muttered grumpily and Daryl just looked at him for a while, trying to figure out what was bugging the guy so much about it. But he couldn't quite figure it out because his friend was obviously not telling him everything. He then turned his head to look at the street again and shrugged gently.

"I wanted t'bash your skull in, too, when I found yah with Merle" he admitted and Connor snorted.

"Well aye, kinda got a history of getting brothers killed" he muttered angrily and looked away.

Daryl just swallowed and looked away as well. It still hurt to think about that day, but he still wanted Connor to know. He understood both sides. He knew that Connor had honestly done Taylor a favour. He'd seen his injuries. They had been more than fatal. But he could also understand Terry. It was pretty fucked up and unfair when someone denied you your goodbye, when you just weren't there, weren't there to end it yourself.

He'd been more than furious, depressed and full of hatred when Connor had turned up with wounded Merle. He'd seriously wanted to beat the guy to death because he had blamed him at first. But much in contrast to Terry he'd been able to kill Merle himself. It had been bloody, disgusting, fucked up and painful. He still hated remembering every sick crunch of his brother's skull, his rage, what Merle had looked like after the assault, it still made him want to vomit, scream, beat someone up and cry, but he honestly didn't blame Connor anymore. No one should. The guy could be an idiot, but he had a big heart and that one in the right spot.

The Irishman just huffed and took another drag on his cigarette.

"Just give the guy time" Daryl said and fixed his eyes on a shambling figure that was heading for their wall. "I think we both know what it's like t'lose a bro. He'll get over it. We all did."

"Did we" Connor muttered to himself and grabbed his gun when he saw the walker as well.

For just a second Daryl looked at his friend, surprised by his words, and he wasn't too sure what he'd meant by that. Or who he'd meant. He knew that he wasn't over Merle's death, and he was pretty sure that Connor had gotten that vibe by now. But part of him got the impression that the guy was actually talking about himself. But he didn't get the chance to ask or didn't want to ask, because he then noticed the gun and pressed it down.

"Don't be stupid. I got that one" he said and took aim with his crossbow.

Connor snorted.

"Uhm, no, how about fuck you, I got that one" the Irishman said and suddenly tried to reach for the crossbow, not only to get it because he wanted to shoot it, but also as some sort of revenge because Daryl had pressed his gun down.

"Eh, getcha mitts off my crossbow!" Daryl roared and tried to move it out of Connor's reach, but the Irishman still managed to grasp it and pulled.

"Oh come on, don' be such a fuckin pussy! Ye let me shoot the fuckin thing before!" the Irishman complained and Daryl finally managed to free his crossbow with an annoyed growl.

"So what, that ain't a toy yah fucktard, it's mine and I ain't giving it t'yah."

"Yer just jealous cos ye know I'd totally nail the guy from here while you'd just miss him!"

Connor suddenly felt the need to kill someone, namely the walker, to get rid of his anger about Terry's behavior.  
And it pissed him off that his friend wouldn't get that.

Daryl checked his weapon with an annoyed "Blah-blah!" and then glared at Connor for a moment, who was glaring back at him. Daryl then turned his head to look at the walker, who was slowly coming closer and closer. The hunter snorted and stepped back while handing Connor the crossbow, finally getting the right impression and letting Connor do it.

"After you, then. Betcha can't do shit" he said angrily and pressed the weapon to his friend's chest with the sharp tip of the arrow pointed right at him on purpose. Connor winced but then took the crossbow, quickly checking the arrow and if it was ready to shoot. He then took aim with a cocky look on his face that said 'you just watch me', whereas Daryl stepped back and folded his arms with a look on his face that said 'you still can't do shit'.

Connor carefully took aim and since he wouldn't shoot the arrow right away his friend used the time to criticize him.

"Yah holding it wrong" he said although Connor wasn't too bad.

"Shut it!" the blonde said angrily and then concentrated once more. And maybe he pictured the walker to be Terry, the fucker who had grabbed him like that.  
Daryl already started smirking. When Connor finally fired the arrow at the walker it only hit his neck and got stuck there.

"Fuck" the Irishman growled and Daryl chuckled.

"Told yah."

"Oh fuck ye, it's yer fault, ye were distracting me, messing with my concentration's what ye did."

"Real shooter don't need to concentrate to nail a walker" Daryl said while reloading. He then took aim at the walker and quickly pulled the trigger while doing that.  
He hit his head and the undead dropped to the ground.

"See?" he said and then walked back to his chair.

"Cocky, much?" Connor growled and licked his lips.

"Look who's talkin" Daryl answered and their little fight was officially over.  
Both men sat back down to recover from the walker thing, and after a moment Connor suddenly chuckled.  
Daryl turned his head and looked at him.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing just..it's just a bit deja-vu right now."

Daryl raised an eyebrow at that.

"Don't go all European ape on me. Speak English."

"Ye mean redneck, right?" Connor countered and then leaned back with a sigh.

"Just occurred t'me that the last time we did a night shift on top of a bus t'gether was back on te farm. And ye were exactly that fuckin pissy."

Daryl looked at Connor a little while longer, but then stared at his crossbow instead so he could put a new arrow in it and check if it was okay after the way Connor had grabbed it.

"'t was the RV not a bus" he growled and got rid of a lint.

"And I ain't pissy."

"Nooo, not at all" Connor said and chuckled, then they both fell quiet yet again, both kinda remembering that and other shit.

Jesus, that had been _a year_ ago.

Daryl stared straight ahead and swallowed a bit. He still didn't like thinking about the farm that much. Sure, Connor treated him like crap these days, especially since Murphy's return. But he'd done some pretty heavy shit as well back then. Beat the guy to a bloody pulp more than once. _Pissy_. That was an understatement _. Just like his stupid dad was more like it._ Of course it was like deja-vu. He pretty much remembered every single argument he'd ever had with the guy. Including the one on top of the RV during one of their earlier night watch shifts, when they'd just gotten to know each other back on the farm.

But no. He wasn't going to be all sentimental about this. And he so wasn't going to talk about it.  
The past, the farm, the things they both had fucked up during the past year.  
He liked where they were now, he liked their friendship as it was.

"Rick wants ta go back there" Connor suddenly said and snapped him out of his train of thoughts.

"Where?"

"Te farm" Connor said and put both his hands in his pockets. He leaned back a bit, craned his neck and then stared at the sky, only to close his eyes and enjoy the cool summernight's breeze, to relax once more. Daryl raised an eyebrow and looked at his friend for a moment, fixing his eyes on his craned neck, the tattoo right there. He then turned his head again and snorted.

"The hell'd he want there. Place burned down that night in case yah don't remember."

Connor snorted miserably.

"Aye. Cos I could ever ferget that fuckin night."

_Connor, taking a deep breath and grabbing the sleeve of his pea coat to lift it up. Him, removing the towel he'd wrapped around the bite, only to show it to him.  
The marks, the bloody infected flesh, the blackened veins all around the wound._

_Why_ **_you_ ** _?!_

Daryl wouldn't say anything. Yeah. _That_ night. How could anyone ever forget about that one, the big revelation.

"No, Hershman suggested that we should go back there, see what's still left there, the surrounding area, the whole bunch of farmhouses up there. So Rick can play some more 'Our Little Farm'" Connor said and chuckled, now no longer staring at the sky and shifting until he sat in a proper position again. He even turned around a bit to look in the direction of Rick's new hobby, the garden that was still being build and taken care of, although it was abandoned right now because most of the people were inside their homes already.

"Yeah" Daryl said and smirked a bit himself. Nobody really liked farmer Rick.

Another pause.

"We ain't bringing the freakin horse back with us, though."

Connor started laughing and looked at Daryl with a bright smile, remembering that incident as well.

"Just cos yer t'stupid ta ride a fuckin horse!"

"I ain't too stupid to ride a…"Daryl trailed off when they both heard the sound of multiple growling walkers somewhere to their left. Both men fell quiet and looked at each other, listening up and waiting for what was about to happen next.

"Looks like Mr Fatty wasn't the only one comin to party" Daryl muttered and Connor nodded, then the both of them simultaneously got up and walked over to the left corner of their wall, to peek around the corner.

"Wow, shit, this time it's not just one" Connor observed as they watched a whole group of maybe twenty walkers stagger in their direction, right towards the wall they were standing on. "So much fer Murph leading 'em all away" Connor muttered and reached for his knife.

"Ain't no wonder they're coming back with all yah yappin and yelling earlier" Daryl complained and aimed his crossbow at one of the walkers to shoot her. But he knew that his arrows wouldn't last, there were more walkers than arrows, and he didn't want to risk gunshots when there were probably even more walkers heading in their direction.

Not to mention the large herd he'd encountered yesterday.

"Guess that's my cue, then" Connor suddenly said and Daryl turned around in surprise.

He didn't get to say or do anything, because the Irishman just went straight ahead and jumped off the wall.

"Leprechaun!" Daryl automatically complained, but Connor ran right at the walkers with his knife drawn and ready to fight them. He usually hated the walkers and thought that they were annoying, but right now he actually appreciated their coming, appreciated the chance of blowing off some steam, to fight and be all manly because his encounter with Terry had been _pretty_ shitty.

Daryl knew that the undead still wouldn't attack his friend because of his immunity and all that. He'd been like that for a couple of weeks as well. But then the thing on the highway had happened, and _he_ was back to normal, and once again he was more than freaked out, more than pissed because Connor honestly took the whole thing for granted, practically throwing himself at danger. Despite the fact that he'd been bitten _twice_ now.

He quickly tried to shoot another arrow at the walkers, but it was just too risky and stupid to do that with Connor in the line of fire. He cursed and put his crossbow down while watching Connor fight, stab and slash, almost eight walkers had dropped to the ground by now, and luckily it didn't look like more of them were coming. Daryl was really furious by now. He hated that the Irishman was so stupid, so cocky and frivolous, even worse, that he was doing all the work and killed way more walkers than he had today.

Deep down he remembered that they still had this stupid competition going (they both had lost count around 157 kills or something like that), but not just that made him jump the wall, he also wanted to kick the guy's ass. So Daryl jumped down as well, crossbow in his one hand, knife in the other. He dropped the crossbow somewhere close to the wall because he didn't need it in close combat and then ran at one of the walkers that was now staggering in his direction with wide, dead and mad eyes.

"Are ye fuckin crazy? Get back up there, they're attackin ye again, remember?" Connor instantly roared and looked at Daryl, big brother mode instantly kicking right back in. But Daryl just ignored him and kept stabbing the walkers as well, to keep them off their wall, to get rid of them and not wake too many people up. Connor only tried reasoning with him once more, but then he was too busy trying to keep the walkers away from Daryl. They killed every last walker and it really didn't take too long since they were excellent at working together, back to back, facing danger and eliminating it with their doubled force.

The last walker fell to the ground, both men were still a bit out of breath and Connor let his gaze wander while wiping his nose.

"Well.." he muttered and then kicked a walker to turn him around and make sure he was really dead. "That was a whole lot easier than I thought" he said and then looked up to smirk at Daryl, who had been busy getting his arrows back until now. The hunter was glaring at him, obviously pissed again, just like any other time Connor decided to kill a bunch of walkers on his own by using the advantages of his immunity. And he certainly liked to piss Daryl off. He grinned even more and nudged his friend.

"We're a good team" he said but didn't get to say anything else, because then Daryl already shoved him against the wall.

"And you're a fuckin dick" he snarled and just glared at the Irishman, considering to punch him, but he was already getting tired of the same old argument. Because it was always like that, exactly like that, the same warnings, Connor ignoring them, him telling him that he's a dick, end, stop, repeat. They both knew that Connor would never learn, that he would keep doing that until the day the walkers decided to attack him again and would probably tear him to shreds.

Which only pissed Daryl off even more, but he already tried to let go. He stepped back and tried to head for the walkers. Except that Connor wouldn't let him. The guy was still giving him that cocky grin of his that made him want to smash his fucking teeth in.

"But ye like it" he said with a grin and Daryl let go.

"Yah wish" he said angrily and wanted to leave to get rid of the bodies, but then Connor suddenly grabbed him and crashed their mouths together, still grinning into the kiss and completely startling Daryl. Just like every single time before Daryl flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. His first instincts told him to kick, lash out, do something to stop this madness, but then it was already over again before it had even started. The hunter stared at his friend, completely dumbfounded and blinking, and maybe Connor was a tiny bit surprised as well. But then again he totally wasn't, he was already _kind_ of getting used to this shit. The whole adrenaline rush had kind of made him want to do it, gone to his head, the whole bickering and then fighting had kind of all build up to that. Murphy didn't want him to do that, god didn't want him to do that, Daryl didn't want him to do that, and this was exactly the reason why his inner still-five-year-old-to-battle-the-fact-that-I'm-still-fucking-depressed self wanted to do it.

And even without all that shit – he'd 'kissed' friends before. To show them that he liked them. Rocco for example, but of course, always with a hand between them (because kissing Rocco or any other dude, yikes, gross). And maybe he happened to do that shit with Daryl but without the hand.

Fuck that shit.

He was in a good mood now. Finally.

He already wanted to let it slide and tried to go to the bodies as well, but this time Daryl shoved him back against the wall again and that _hard,_ which made Connor roll his eyes. He already saw it coming. His friend's typical behavior, the violent attack to feel all manly after shit like that, the typical yelling at him and telling him that he wasn't freaking gay and that he was supposed to stop that shit, yadayadayada, but he was actually surprised when this wouldn't happen at all, when his friend suddenly kissed him _back_.

Daryl had kind of expected that thing to happen between them again. It wasn't exactly the first time this was happening after something as thrilling and dangerous as facing a herd of walkers together. He didn't know that Connor felt the same, but just like him the sudden adrenaline rush had certainly helped him to cross that boundary that was still between them, the one that they were both very keen to keep up most of the time, no matter how much had changed.

But Connor initiating the thing on his own had been the right kind of signal, the one that he'd been waiting for and what he was only realizing now. Pretty much the entire day had sucked. It had been boring, frustrating, and it had reminded him way too much of his old life, his old self he'd been back in Atlanta when he'd always stayed away from the group and spend days out hunting their food just to be left alone. But nowadays that just sucked, he appreciated company, appreciated his and Connor's friendship, and he was honestly just really fucking glad that the guy obviously wasn't dropping him like 'a used rubber' like Merle had loved to call it.

Murphy was there. Connor had spent his day with the annoying guy, but for the first time he'd actually kept his word, come back, spent time with him just like in the old days. Take that 'joy' and the adrenaline rush from the fight and he was beyond freaking ecstatic. Ecstatic enough to ignore all of his phobias and just do this stuff.

Connor chuckled once and was still grinning because this shit was so stupid and funny.

Because really, Daryl was just fucking _terrible_ at this. He was trying too hard to be all badass, to fake experience. Connor tried really hard not to laugh and actually did a pretty decent job hiding it, but he just couldn't do the same with his grin. Just like the times before it was clumsy and too violent to be good, but he was used to the whole thing by now, the way Daryl would cling to him like a drowning rat and made it impossible for him to move on purpose, the way he just pressed him against something to keep him in place like a freaking puppet, how he moved too much and breathed too hard, but just like he'd said it before – he freaking liked it. _Damn him_.

He even growled in frustration and so did Daryl, even angrier because he hated it just as much, because it frustrated him just as much and pissed him off. For a moment they went on like that while Connor tried to slow his friend down, tried to give himself some space and maybe show the guy how this kind of thing worked, but then their day already took a downturn when they heard footsteps and a voice.

"Daryl?"

It was Andrea.

Both men broke the kiss abruptly and walked away from each other, quickly wiping their mouths and then trying to keep themselves busy with something, to make it look like they'd been working anyway.

"Here" the hunter said and quickly sorted his clothes. He went back to get his crossbow and picked it up while Connor grabbed the first walker by his feet to drag him away from the wall. They could hear how Andrea walked up the stairs, a moment later they heard more footsteps on the ladder and then both Michonne and Andrea appeared on top of the bus, examining the scene in front of their wall with wide eyes.

"What happened?"

"Buncha walkers came round the corner. We took care of it" he said to them, shielding his eyes to look at them and quickly turned around again to hide the front of his body. Connor stopped moving the walker for a moment, picking up on the fact that his friend wasn't exactly _decent_ enough to talk to the women right now.

He tried not to grin and acted all serious and busy.

"Aye, we managed t'kill them before they got a chance ta pile up. It's alright, we got it covered" he reassured them, but the two women didn't look too pleased.  
Michonne reached for her Katana and looked around. Andrea put both her hands on her hips and had a look around as well.

"Do you need help?"

"Nat with the bodies 't least" Connor grunted and started moving another one.

"But y'know, now that ye mention help" he said and then look at Michonne, eyed her Katana and the way she was holding its grip, ready to pull it out and fight.

"A sword like yers might come in handy next time. Y'know, with me being the close combat guy now."

He smirked at Michonne, trying to give her his best charmer act but of course, she wasn't that easy to win. But she humored him and smiled back, even looking at Andrea like she was secretly saying ' _here we go again_ ' with an amused smirk.

"Do you even know how to handle a weapon like that?"

"Well…" Connor huffed and dropped the next body. He put a hand on his hips as well and grinned at her.

"Maybe ye could teach me during one of our next workout sessions."

Michonne kept smiling like that and shook her head gently.

"We'll see" she said and then stroke Andrea's back once, to make it clear that all was good. But the former lawyer was still a bit tense and kept looking around, obviously remembering the last time walkers had started to pile up on their walls.

"You sure you're alright?"

Connor looked at Daryl who was still super 'busy' moving the walkers away with a serious, tense and typical grumpy look on his face.  
The Irishman wiped the sweat off his face and sniffed.

"Well, maybe ye could keep watch while me 'n Daryl get rid of te bodies and burn them, bit further away fram here. Maybe we'll do a quick sweep around town while we're at it, see if there's any more stragglers."

Andrea nodded and checked her guns, now going into watch mode.

"Be careful."

Connor smiled.

"Relax. We're just gonna burn them. Be back before ye know it."


	12. Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a new chapter. Hope I did okay. It's -very- shippy this time, and friendly reminder that this is my first fic where I'm actually writing stuff like that. So please be kind.
> 
> I'm obviously not a guy and not -too- experienced in the field. Meaning that although I've been there a bunch of times and read and seen enough for a lifetime I'm not exaclty a porn writing queen. And it certainly isn't even porn or smut. Just.. give it a go and lower your standards, okay :D
> 
> But oh my goodness. I'm so excited about this story. Not only because of the shippy aspect that I've build up and won't let go of in the near future, but also because there's always at least one detail in each chapter that will play an important part in the following ones. I still got so much up my sleeve, it's only just the beginning and this is just...still so utterly exciting :). I thought that after two years of writing on this series I would grow tired of it and run out of ideas, but I'm -far- from it. At least right now.
> 
> Also: Murphy will be back in the next chapter. Don't worry, I'm not forgetting about him either. But this chapter is all about the Connaryl this time. Hope you like it despite my little insecurity there.

Connor carefully approached the wall in reverse, eager not to crash it or the vehicle itself. He didn't really like that he had to make that much noise when more walkers could be right around the corner, but there was no way he and Daryl were going to drag at least twenty bodies away from their part of the town. And they certainly had to remove the bodies. It was a standard procedure. They couldn't risk the smell, the disease and other problems decaying bodies brought with them, especially since Rick was trying to grow food on the other side of the wall.

So the bodies needed to disappear, which only worked with the help of their large pickup truck. Things had kind of calmed down by now, but he was still having a careful look around the surrounding houses, the abandoned area which looked so much more sinister during the night. He then turned around again and grabbed the passenger seat, looking back at Daryl and Michonne who were waiting so they could move the bodies, and Andrea, who was keeping watch on top of the wall with her sniper rifle.

Things had certainly calmed down by now. Totally. Which actually pissed him off a bit.

 _Cockblock's more like it_ , Connor thought and shook his head with a gentle snort.  
The whole watch shift had been pretty _fun_ until the two women had shown up. Connor slowed the car down and then frowned.

Jeez. He already thought that _women_ were _getting in the way._ What the actual fuck. _There's something seriously fuckin wrong with ye. Yer not fuckin…_ A loud bang and the abrupt shaking of the car snapped him out of it and made him turn around. Michonne and Daryl were throwing the corpses on the bed of his pickup by now, making the vehicle shake with every new body.

Connor let out a gentle sigh and turned the engine off.

 _Better not ponder on that now_ , he thought and stepped out of the car to help.

* * *

 _Cockblock_ was the _perfect_ word to describe what was going on during this godforsaken night watch shift. Everything had been pretty fucking fine up until now. The chilling together, the smoking, the chatting, the fighting and the shit after that, and here they were now. Moving bodies from one place to the next, constantly touching rotten flesh that smelled fucking _awful_ , out in the open with some more shuffling corpses on the field close to their town.

He thought that he'd gotten used to this by now, but oh how far he still was from that, even after all this time. The stench of rotting corpses, feces and disease. It still made him want to throw up, although he had been so determined to keep all the unpleasant stuff from ruining his day after what had happened with Terry. But of course. This was the apocalypse. Dead men walking. Was there ever a time when shit didn't get in the way? Probably not. Probably never.

He just snorted when he remembered how _easy_ their former life had been compared to that. Sure, even back then it had been dangerous. Not the undead but some mobsters had been after him and Murph, but not 24/7 and certainly not when he'd gotten close to _this_. Back in the old days it had been so _easy_ to get laid. There had been enough time. Less interruption (if you didn't count Murphy occasionally walking in on him with the girl way too freaking _early_ ), no _real_ danger, no constant worry and fear or other people around them.

Connor frowned once more and got rid of another body which he threw on the pile. He cleaned his hands and then wiped his forehead, watching Daryl curiously, determined not to get caught.

_Wait a minute, was that really the shit he wanted?_

He frowned.

_Getting laid? Sure._

_But with Daryl?_

He watched the hunter move the bodies around, the muscles of his face and arms all tense and busy. They'd gotten there multiple times now.  
One time had been really fucking _close_. It was the most logical option right now. The easiest one.

_But was it easy? Fuck, he didn't know shit about this sort of thing._

Maybe that made him a bit grumpy.

He knew that, out of all encounters like _that_ , he'd been the one to start most of it. He also knew another thing for sure: he _wasn't_ freaking gay. And he honestly didn't just say or think that just to hide shit or because he was super religious and had been raised like that. Nope. He was honestly sure that he wasn't like that. But….

_Shit just kinda happened._

He got back to work and helped his friend with the body of an especially fat walker.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ he thought as they dragged it over to the pile and then threw it on top of it. He just couldn't help it. He was pissed, he was angry with Michonne and Andrea for interrupting them like that. It certainly was never easy to get _there_ with Daryl, not only because his friend was like a shy, sensitive fucking virgin with a macho and beat-them-up complex, but also because _he_ had some trouble switching off his brain to get there without being too bothered by the whole thing as well.

They'd already crossed the line and screwed everything, only to get interrupted like that. And here they were again – back to business. Doing tough, hard and disgusting shit. Like real men. Hardy-fucking-har. Except it wasn't funny or made him feel all macho and masculine, although he knew that he should probably make himself feel like that after the thing back at the wall. But the truth was that he didn't give a shit about what was 'manly' and 'macho' anymore. He was growing sick and tired of it. It put so many stones in their way, made everything so much more complicated in a world that was too complicated, dangerous and busy anyway.

If they kept going by this rate, always battling something, be it walkers, other people or their own minds and attitudes , then they would _never_ fucking get laid. Not him, and _especially_ not fucking Daryl. The truth was pretty fucking simple. Reality was pretty fucking simple. Easy to understand even. There were women in Woodbury. Attractive women. Beautiful, smart women. To put it bluntly – perfectly fuckable women. Connor was pretty sure that out of the two of them he was the only one to really get it though – the truth about the whole thing. No matter how many women there were in Woodbury, he knew that the both of them would never be able to fuck any of them. Maybe _he_ could, but he knew he wouldn't.

There were many reasons for that. Those people were family. More or less. And stuff like that meant always trouble. Back in the old days shit like that had been simple and easy for him. Find a pretty girl, have fun, part ways, go back to Murphy. Win win situation, never see each other again because Boston had been a fucking huge city with thousands of people in it. But here in Woodbury? He could still find a pretty girl, have fun, go back to Murphy and Daryl. But this was about it. There was no parting ways because Woodbury wasn't Boston. Woodbury was small. Everyone knew each other. No one was going anywhere. There would be responsibilities. Talk. Unwanted constantly crossing paths and bonding.

And he didn't do that shit. Didn't want to do this sort of thing. Not back then, certainly not now. No girlfriends. No kids. He wasn't like Rick or Glenn. Fuck, he couldn't even handle the Murphy-Daryl triangle, so how was this shit supposed to work out with _another_ person in the picture? Jealousy overdose. Nah. Nah and one more nah. One person would have to come short, he would have to spend less time with both Murphy and Daryl, and he didn't want to do this sort of thing. Certainly not for the sake of some random woman he'd practically just met. Daryl and Murphy were more important to him. Always would be.

So no banging some random female citizen from Woodbury for him.

With Daryl parts of it were the same. Then there was the pretty much a virgin dilemma. The whole constantly freaking out, his tendency for violence which he'd learned the hard way, Daryl's complete lack of social skills and flirting and being aware of himself, all the shit he needed to get along with a woman. Not to speak about how his friend had never even _tried_ to really talk to women other than Carol, Michonne or Maggie. And even this had taken him a year. So if _he_ couldn't get it on with someone, then Daryl sure as hell couldn't do shit as well. No banging some random female citizen from Woodbury for Daryl either.

So the truth, reality even, was pretty simple.

The both of them were going _nowhere_. Never would. At least not in the near future, which probably meant another year at least. It had taken him a couple weeks to really figure that out and come to terms with it, but this was also the pretty simple and unfiltered truth. If there was _one_ person they could do this shit with (and fuck yeah he wanted to do this shit now that he had recovered from emo-fucking-mopiness) then it just happened to be…with each other. Plain and simple.  
  
A _nd so fucking what? Better get laid in some way than not getting laid at all.  
_ _Not the real deal of course. That was gay. No, but maybe…shit like after the party. More or less. Probably. Maybe._

And since he, Connor MacManus, was the only _mature_ one out of the two of them with more experience, a better temper and all of that shit, he just had to be the one to start it, right? _Fuck_ , he thought angrily as he got rid of another walker, and maybe he'd thrown that one a bit too aggressively because he was angry. The shit with Woodbury, Terry, the walkers and Murphy, and now the constant cockblocking and all the other problems that got in the way whenever he was with Daryl just seriously frustrated him. He wanted it to be easy. He wanted some fucking stress relief. No. He _deserved_ it even, after all the shit he'd been through. After all the shit Daryl had been through.

He glared at his friend once again and this time the hunter caught him in the act, but he just frowned. Connor just looked angry, so Daryl didn't have a clue about what the guy was thinking, and he certainly didn't want to talk about shit when he was busy anyway. But Connor just glared at him for a moment as his thoughts kept spinning.

 _Why the fuck was the guy so uptight and bitchy and frustrated and aggressive anyway? Because it was the same with him. He also needed to get freaking laid. It just had to be like that._ Everything around them was wearing everyone down, and the guy's fucked up past was constantly hovering above him like a massive dark cloud. Clinging to his shoulders and tensing them up like a demon with a twisted face, like the demons he had tattooed on his body.   
  
Just like before the answer was pretty simple – Daryl was like that because no one had ever invested time and strength in him, because no one had ever put up with all the shit he'd been throwing at them. But _he_ was here now, the head and leader of pretty much everything when other people couldn't get their shit together, when they needed someone to make plans, be in charge and get stuff done. Daryl needed the same thing as him right now. Stress relief. Had needed it for a long long time. So fuck the fact that they were both guys. He was gonna start shit anyway.

Hell, they could do it like they always did – deny everything the next day and banter their way through it. Blame it on the alcohol, the circumstances, the end of the world. And that was just it. _The end of the world_. People did all sorts of shit these days. Eating each other. Torturing and killing each other, keeping secrets, raising child soldiers, starting wars and going nuts. _Everyone_ was screwed. And as long as they stuck to all the other rules, protected lives, killed walkers and twisted people like the governor, saved each other and took new people like Bob in. As long as they did all that good stuff, everything was _fine_.

After weeks of trying to battle it, the thought, the possibilities, Connor no longer fought the idea, and he finally pretty much reached a point where he was _fine_ with it. Where he embraced it and took it as an _opportunity_.

They threw the last body on the pile. The Irishman searched the pocket of his jeans until he found the lighter while Daryl poured fire accelerant on the walkers. Connor then lit the branch he'd nicked from a bush and set it aflame, watching the fire rise and turning the wood around. Funnily enough, and maybe that disillusioned him a bit again, the fire made him feel like he was sealing a pact with the devil.

 _Just promise me something._ _Don' die_ _before me._  
 _I promise ye if ye promise me something as well. Don' go further down this path._

He knew what was at stake, but he also knew that it had been too late right from the beginning anyway.

"I think we should probably have a look 'round town. See if there's any more lurkers. 'm sure the fire will draw more of 'em in. No matter how much we tried t'shield it" Connor muttered and wouldn't stop staring into the fire.

Daryl nodded and had a look around, grabbing his knife while doing so because he noticed two stray walkers close to the alley they found themselves in. They had chosen the place on purpose. Two brick walls were lining the alley and supposed to shield the flames from plain sight (it had been Connor's idea), but even with all that precaution some walkers had still managed to spot them in the dark, just like the Irishman had said. Since they were coming from behind their pickup the hunter figured that the noise of the engine had probably drawn them in.

"Let's get goin then" the hunter muttered, nudged his friend's chest and then headed for the two undead to kill them before they could manage to bury their teeth in his neck or something. Connor watched the flames a minute longer, lost in thoughts, and then finally joined the hunter.

* * *

They just rode around town for a while, careful not to make too much noise but also pretty eager to get this done as soon as possible. They both knew that it would probably be wiser to just walk the perimeter, walk around town and check everything a whole lot quieter, but the truth was that they seriously just wanted to go back home.

It was Daryl who did the driving around this time, one more reason why he wanted it to be done in the quickest and most efficient way while Connor sat next to him in the passenger seat, head turned in the direction of the window as he scanned the surrounding abandoned houses for any movement. Or Daryl thought that his friend did that at least, because he hadn't noticed the change of Connor's attitude yet.   
  
Sure, the Irishman was really looking for any walkers close to their part of the town, but a larger portion of his brain was busier trying to come up with all sorts of strategies, plans, ramblings, ideas on how he could possibly get this whole thing going and give his body and mind some peace while keeping their tight friendship intact. But he considered himself a man of great plans, so he was confident that it wouldn't take him too much time to figure that out.

"We should probably think 'bout setting up some traps" Daryl said after looking back and forth between the road and Connor multiple times, because he slowly picked up on Connor's broodiness. The Irishman cleared his throat and then turned his head while placing his foot on the dashboard.

"Fer what? Game?"

Daryl shrugged and looked out of the window to his left.

"Yeah that. But I meant walkers. Around town. I mean all this is just lyin here like a five star hotel for 'em. It's practically an invitation as it is. 'Come on, plenty of room for y'all dead fucks t'hide in" the hunter noted and pointed at all the abandoned houses which had been looted and turned upside down multiple times and which were really just lying there now, dark holes that were just inviting other people and walkers to enter and hide in so close to their settlement. Connor had a look around while chewing on his rosary, still lost in thoughts, but slowly nodding.

"Aye. Maybe we should also think 'bout expanding the walls. Put up some more t'keep 'em from getting in in te first place."

Daryl snorted.

"Could use the room, but it's pretty tough t'watch the walls as they are."

"Well, maybe we could also think 'bout digging up some holes 'n ditches. Make walkers fall in there so all we gotta do is clean house every couple'a days. Set them on fire, be done with te whole thing. We could make this whole town our own" Connor suggested and Daryl nodded.

"Yeah. We should bring it up during one of the council meetings."

The Irishman just snorted and got lost in thoughts once again. And this time Terry's words were ringing in his ears.  
 _  
You ever notice the division of labor here? Your boss stays here picking flowers while all of our decent people from Woodbury get sent out on death missions._

Oh yeah, the council. There was a _lot_ to talk about. Terry, the walls, the walkers, Woodbury, the council itself, _Carol_ ….

He clenched his fists and got angry once again. He'd been trying really hard to stay all chill and happy now, most of all because he was with Daryl. But there were many issues about today that wouldn't let him live in peace, and the fact that his friend always seemed to bring up just those issues, all bullseye, wasn't exactly helping.

No.  
He wasn't gonna deal with that now.

"What?" Daryl asked and Connor turned his head to look at his friend with a frown.

"What'd ye mean, 'what'?"

Daryl looked back at him for a moment, eyes scanning his friend's face, trying to figure out what was going on, but then he just shrugged and looked at the road again.

"Nothin."

He figured that Connor was probably pissed again because of the shit that had happened earlier, just by the wall. The guy was probably thinking about his stupid brother again, since they weren't back inside and close to the freaking emo. He tried not to roll his eyes and be angry, but the shift and been pretty much screwed the moment Andrea and Michonne had turned up and interrupted them.

Not like this had been a _bad_ thing. It had been good, of course. Someone better stop him whenever he let Connor drag him into this shit. And how stupid this had been really. Out in the open. So close to the wall, the windows, even worse. _Outside_ , with walkers or god knows what kind of people _watching_ them. _What if Andrea or Michonne had seen…?  
_

Nope. The shift had been chill, they had fought the walkers, disposed of the bodies, and now they were just doing the rest of their job, their duties.  
Nothing else had happened anyway. But still. The two women had kind of killed the mood, the vibe.

"Hold up, slow down, think I saw something move inside tha old laundry" Connor suddenly noted next to him and Daryl did as he was told, eyes now fixed on the right and trying to make out what his friend had seen. He couldn't see shit. It was all dark. Dark, abandoned, and pretty quiet. He still stopped the car and for a moment they just stood there, in the middle of the road, engine still running, headlights illuminating dirt and trash on the road, eyes fixed on the dark silhouette of the former laundry of Woodbury.

"Probably nothin" Daryl muttered after a while and wanted to start driving again, to get back to their part of the town, but Connor grabbed his wrist to stop him from putting in first gear.

"No, 'm tellin ye I saw something or someone move in there. We should check it out. Be fuckin thorough fer once, alright."

Daryl let out a gentle, exhausted sigh and then killed the engine, playing along this time.

"Alright, leprechaun. Although this is probably you just imagining shit again…" he mumbled and then reached behind them to get his crossbow from the backseat.

"Shut it" Connor growled and checked his gun and knife, only to open the door and step outside the car first. Daryl eventually followed, eyes scanning the surrounding houses and broken windows, trying to look for any more movement. He didn't quite get why Connor felt the need to check this out. One walker wasn't exactly a problem. And since the noise of their car hadn't drawn the _moving_ thing out by now he was pretty sure it wasn't a walker anyway. And if it was – he didn't get why they would need to go inside the laundry, when it was so much more dangerous inside a building with few escape routes.

But then again. He knew how quickly one walker could turn into two, three, four, five…a whole herd, so Connor was probably right.  
They should finish the thing off and get home. And if it wasn't a walker but a person…one more reason to check the moving thing out, he guessed.

They entered the building slowly and carefully, Daryl right behind Connor with his crossbow raised and ready to shoot. The splinters of broken glass were crunching beneath their feet, no matter how hard they tried to keep quiet. The laundry really wasn't that big and Daryl already kind of knew the layout. He'd checked out pretty much every building around town since they had gotten here, to look for supplies, people or walkers.

He knew that there was nothing left in here, and there hadn't been much to loot in the first place anyway. The place was small, only one medium-sized room with a bunch of washing machines and dirty laundry. Then there were a few bloody counters and another small backroom for staff which was separated from the rest of the shop by a large milky glass pane which was surprisingly intact, considering the circumstances and general mess all around them. There were only a bunch of cracks in it, but it looked just fine.

So both men carefully entered the laundry, flashlights now turned on and illuminating bits and pieces.

But nothing was moving.

"See, told yah. Nothin movin in here. Just you hearing angels sing or crap like that."

"Shhhhh" Connor hissed angrily and then pointed at the glass pane that separated the laundry room from the small office. Daryl frowned since he still couldn't hear or see shit, but decided to just play along because he knew that this way they would get home a whole lot faster than if they stayed here and started arguing. So he walked ahead and bumped into Connor on purpose just like he always did when he was trying to piss him off. He then headed for the back room, crossbow drawn, arrow in place, ready to shoot at…. Nothing.

There was nothing behind the glass pane. No movement. No bodies, no walkers, no secret strangers, nothing but an old swivel chair, papers, cords and an old keyboard, the only remnants of office supplies and computers that had been taken ages ago.

"Just like I said. Nothing here t…"

"Well how else was I gonna keep yer arse away from fuckin Woodbury so we could figure shit out on our own, smartass" Connor growled angrily, lowering his weapons and then trying to get closer to his friend, who suddenly stepped back with a confused, angry frown.

"Whoa, slow down, whacko" he complained and pointed at his friend, who had tried to come closer anyway. "The fuck yah think you're doing" he went on, immediately tense and backing off like a trapped animal. He already knew what this was about but it still freaked him out and made him angry. He didn't like getting tricked, especially when it involved getting trapped in a room with no real exit. It didn't matter that it was just Connor who'd tricked him and he was used to shit like this by now, but still. He just didn't like getting played like that, especially when this was supposed to build up to the shit he knew Connor intended.

"Oh come on, don't play all fuckin stupid. Ye know exactly what tha shit is about. After the wall I just figured…"

Daryl let out a loud and angry laugh.

"Yah figured _what_. Are yah really freakin _serious_ right now?"

Connor rolled his eyes in frustration and anger. He sure as hell had pictured this a whole lot easier. But then again, this was Daryl, so this shouldn't be all too surprising. He always put up that act when it got to that after all.

"Oh fuck ye! No fuckin audience, shit already started back at te wall, we've already been there, so fuckin what? What is so hard t'get? What exactly is yer fuckin problem right now?"

"Well, I ain't freakin gay for a start, alright?" Daryl said angrily, because he couldn't believe that Connor had really lured him back here, told him about possible danger and walkers only to really indicate shit like…

"Neither am I, alright! But at least _I_ figured that we're not goin anywhere right now anyway. 's not like women grow on trees, 's the end of the world so what te fuck? And just like I said, we've already fuckin been there, 's been too freaking long fer the both of us and don' deny that shit now ye know 'm right, it's the next logical 'n most sufficient step. We're friends, it's a win-win kinda situation, no one's gonna know, life's complicated enough fer…"

Daryl snorted angrily and started walking in circles because just thinking about this whole stuff made him nervous and a tiny bit furious.

"So the stuff yah said earlier wasn't just a joke. I knew it. Well here's the deal, sunshine. I don't even _need_ shit like that, alright? Get that behind yah thick Irish skull" Daryl interrupted his friend's little monologue and let out an angry snort. "Never needed it, never liked it, never will. That crap back at the wall was you, not me. And before that it was all some sorta accident, drunk stuff. Don't do this pathetic…"

"Aye, sure. That was just fucking me. And shit totally wasn't obvious after the fuckin party. Do get off yer fuckin dream cloud driftin in time and space around the Virgin fuckin Islands and get a hold of the situation and possibi…"

_Sweet lil' princess Darylena, all shy 'n prude, just the way I like it. Not like yah bitch mother. Whore, the druggy bitch was. Spread her legs for anything moving, y'know. Unlike you, Darylena, right?_

"I ain't no fuckin Virgin, don't you get that! I just don't wanna do shit like that now so cut it out!" Daryl yelled and shoved his friend but not too hard, against the glass pane, lashing out just like the many, many times before. He instantly cursed himself for doing that, not only because his fit of rage hadn't even been directed at Connor but the freaking voices in his head. But just like before at the store their fragile, rotting and abandoned surroundings instantly gave in, no longer robust enough, despite the fact that the shove hadn't even been that hard.

The glass had shown a couple of cracks before, so it was no surprise that it broke under the weight of a grown man that was being shoved against it. Daryl immediately tried to get a hold of his friend but couldn't keep the dominos from falling. The glass broke, Connor couldn't quite keep his balance although he tried, landing hard on his back in a sea of splinters, old rags and wood.   
  
The noise was deafening, especially since they were in the abandoned part of Woodbury. Just for a second Daryl stopped breathing and had a frantic look around the laundry and abandoned street in front of it, their car, the darkness behind in. He stayed as quiet and still as possible, listening up, waiting to hear the sound of walkers shuffling in their direction but there was….nothing.

The eerie silence outside, and Connor's strained grunting and moaning to his feet.

"You motherfucker…" the Irishman gasped as he tried to sort his limbs and figure out if anything was wrong. He was quite shocked if he was honest, although he knew that he should probably be used to Daryl's violent fits of rage by now, his pushing, his denial, his outburst like he was some freaking teenager. But although he was used to far more violent behavior from back on the farm this still made his blood boil, made him want to put the hunter in place, punch his face real hard and see who'd win a freaking _fight_. It was just so ridiculous that his friend _always_ had to do this shit instead of just freaking manning up for once.

Daryl listened and looked out for walkers a second longer until he finally looked down at Connor.

"Shit, you okay?" he asked quietly, conscience already gnawing away and judging him hard time.

He didn't get an answer or didn't get the chance to check because Connor kicked his legs hard and then yanked them to the right, making him lose his balance and crash down as well. Daryl landed on his back just like Connor, the back of his head connecting hard with the ground and making him see stars for a moment, ears ringing and making it impossible to hear his own groans and complaints.

For a while both men just lay there like that, expecting walkers to turn up except they wouldn't. It was quiet apart from their heavy breathing, hissing, occasional insults and the crunching of glass. A moment later Daryl could hear and feel how Connor shifted, changed position and seemed to be heading his way, the spot where he was still lying and staring at the ceiling. The hunter considered many things. Just randomly kicking at the guy, it didn't matter what he hit, if it was his face or guts or legs or whatever. But he was too lazy to do that and he also figured that he'd done enough hurting today.

What he did though, when he noticed that the guy was coming closer, was reach for his crossbow, grab it, and then aim it right at the Irishman's face when it popped into view. Connor stared at the tip of the arrow and then raised an eyebrow. He then looked Daryl in the eye, eyebrow no longer raised, just an unreadable expression on his face.

"Go ahead, then."

Maybe he considered it for a split second. Just for the thrill of it. His finger was placed on the trigger anyway (Connor could've been a walker for all he knew), just one nervous twitch away from pulling it. But of course, he would never do this because this was Connor facing his deadly weapon, because the one time he'd been pointing a gun at the guy's head had been the one time where he hadn't been able to do it, never would be able to do it. Turned or not.

"Yah like a damn cockroach" he snarled and then finally lowered the crossbow, eyes still fixed on the other man's face, expression unchanged and hard to read. But he knew anyway, knew that Connor knew that this was him giving in, the only kind of constant nagging and annoying the crap out of him he'd never been able to resist. One side of Connor's mouth moved up in a half-smirk.

"And yer still acting like a damn _virgin_."

Daryl opened his mouth to say something to that with an angry frown, but Connor shut him up by kneeing him hard between his legs.

"Shut up" he said angrily and felt pleased with himself when he saw that he had indeed hurt his friend for a change, because the younger of the two squeezed his eyes shut in pain and tried to roll away. Connor felt pretty smug and enjoyed the hell out of that, because Daryl certainly deserved this after the glass thing. He even chuckled a bit.

"You mother…" Daryl grunted and tried to fight back, but then Connor crossed the next line and kissed him again, knowing that just like the many times before he'd won, that he was about to get what he wanted. And although the hunter hated to admit it: it was a nice contrast. Because this wasn't violent or frantic or fucked up. This was slow, lazy and almost tender, now that the fight was over, the danger was gone, now that all was quiet, almost peaceful. Calm. Intimate.

It was also pretty fucking embarrassing.

For the most part, Daryl just endured. He was still too tense, too unsure, too fucked up to really enjoy this sort of thing. He didn't like that this whole thing right here was different, he didn't like the sudden lack of violence and roughness. But what he hated the most was that this time it was really totally _obvious_ that Connor was more experienced, had done this sort of thing before, because it obviously looked and felt like the guy knew _exactly_ what he was doing, that this time he was the one taking and giving, not the other way around.

The hunter would always flinch a bit, like he was still terrified of a possible kick, stab or hit, although the opposite was going on. No matter how much Connor just wanted to get going – he acknowledged that. He tried to be careful and slow, one hand digging into Daryl's hip, the other moving up and down and caressing his side while he kissed his mouth, then cheek, then neck where he lingered for a while and soon couldn't fight the urge anymore to get a bit more rough and aggressive.   
  
He'd never really been like that with women, never been rough or demanding. He'd always taken his sweet fucking time to truly worship their bodies and be all tender and shit, but with Daryl it fell wrong because a) their relationship had always been rough and abusive and b) Daryl was a guy and doing all that shit he usually did with women would make the whole thing gay. Which still made him cringe. So the roughness was actually a necessity, not just because of that but also because Daryl was fighting more and more for dominance.

Just like the couple of times before it was very obvious that the hunter couldn't take being in a position like that. Letting people be in charge and be the lead of something like that. Ever since their little scuffle Connor lay on top of him, thigh still buried between his legs after having kicked him hard. The pain of that kick had subsided by now but the pressure was still there, some other kind of pressure, the sort that demanded some form of release. Daryl tensed and struggled more and more, not only to cause friction between them, but also to buck Connor off so he could be in charge.

He was actually glad that his friend had stopped the kissing crap. Truth be told: he didn't like this sort of thing. It always made him feel helpless and embarrassed, it always felt weird and he never knew what he was supposed to do with his mouth. But he hated to admit that he enjoyed where the Irishman had moved his mouth by now, how he was moving his lips against his neck muscles, the hard tendons there, the spot where his neck connected with his shoulder, how his stubble scraped along his skin, making it sting and tickle.

At some point glass splinters which had been trapped in Connor's hair fell in his face, on his neck and chest and got stuck between them, stinging and leaving trails of faint cuts, which was pretty absurd but also fit them very much. Some pleasure mixed with pain, bruises and blood. Soon their breathing became more labored, louder, more desperate, making it very clear that something needed to happen, that this was too far advanced, that he couldn't just stop it now and end it with another scuffle.

They had fallen into their old patterns by now, just like after the party, just like back inside the tent. The moving against each other, the clinging and grabbing each other, the constant pressing and moving of thighs against strained groins. Although it was night and they were pretty much in the open with that many broken windows and open doors it was still getting too hot, too sweaty, too sticky.

The fight was lost. And a new one was on.

The struggle for dominance, who got to be on top. What had started out as something tender and careful was now turning into another scuffle, only that this one was all about body contact, friction and movement. But right now Connor was too strong, too heavy, too determined until he managed to somewhat pin Daryl down, one arm wrapped around Daryl's arm and hand clinging to his shoulder, locking it in place as he still buried his face in his neck, breathing and panting into it, trying to stop the whole struggle and buckling.

"Fuckin relax, alright" he breathed into Daryl's hot and tense neck, trying to calm him down and make him understand that it wasn't going to be so easy this time. Because Connor had been the one to trick him into coming back here, because he had been the one with the intention, kind of just taking the opportunity, demanding to be in charge of it this time. "It ain't no use if yer so fuckin tense, ease te fuck up" he complained, picking up on how tense Daryl really was as he let his other hand travel down his body to _get to the point_. He was actually surprised to feel that his friend had not yet managed to snap something inside of him, tense and cramped that he was.

"Oh screw yah, why don't you fuck yahself then, prick" Daryl grunted in frustration and looked up a bit, trying to glare at his friend and judge him. Of course he was tense as fuck. He didn't even _like_ this shit. He'd been telling the truth earlier. There was a reason why he hadn't done anything like this that much. He just couldn't get used to the feel of it. It freaked him out, it scared the shit out of him, it brought back memories he didn't want to remember, memories that just made him tense even more and made him want to tear his skin off. Even worse.

"Besides, don't matter how fuckin tense I am, cos yah ain't gonna fuckin…"

"Shut up. Don' be ridiculous" Connor immediately interrupted his friend, voice strained from arousal but still angry and almost grossed out because he couldn't believe Daryl would even suggest something like this or think he would try to do shit like this, where tightness mattered. Nope, nope nope. He'd lowered his standard pretty much by now, but even he wouldn't lower himself to this sort of fucked up level. He still had his standards, still tried to stay at least a bit true to the bible and his promise to Murphy.

"'s just fuckin that, alright" the Irishman breathed and then moved some more, burying his face in Daryl's shoulder again and then shakily planting a harsh kiss there once more. "Just that" he repeated, quieter this time, lost in thoughts and actually a bit hesitant. He stopped moving for a moment to catch breath, to sort himself out and contemplate what he should do, and he was actually surprised when Daryl suddenly dug shaky fingers in his lower back an then buried them in his shirt.

"Alright" the younger of the two even muttered, and that surprised the Irishman even more. He wanted to shift, get up a bit to face the man under him but he could feel how the hunter quickly turned his head away to stare at the wall next to them, to avoid eye contact or any sort of intimacy. Although he'd just given his okay he still seemed to try to isolate himself, to just endure it, a technique he seemed to have taught himself pretty early on.

Connor still didn't know much about his friend's past, what exactly had happened to him. All he knew was that it had happened.

_Did he fuckin touch you?  
He did, alright?! He fuckin did._

The anger. The hatred. The shame. The defeat. The scars.  
He'd seen it all.

And maybe that calmed Connor down a bit, made him understand a bit more. He knew he was crap at the whole thing. Knew that he wasn't what Daryl actually needed to ever get over this, to stop being so fucking tense and scared like someone was about to murder him or tear him to shreds. He honestly couldn't understand it, couldn't put himself in this sort of position. He'd never slept with a 'virgin', had never slept with an abused woman.   
  
Even his first time had been with a girl with experience. His and all the other bodies had always associated everything sexual with pleasure, with something to look forward to. Something that automatically made them relax and enjoy themselves. But here Daryl was, the exact opposite, and it was strange and new and actually pretty unpleasant and uneasy for the both of them.

But he still kept going, now actually encouraged to do it right, to help, to make it better. And maybe it helped that he'd always been less emotional, less tempered, less harsh and a whole lot more tender than Murphy in that regard. He let his hand roam and rested on the hunter's chest for a moment, ignoring the voice in his head that laughed at him saying _this is so fuckin gay right now,_ he just ignored that and let the hand be stuck between their chest, feeling the heat, the harsh and steady movement with every shaky and yet aroused breath his friend took.

He knew exactly where the scars were by now. He'd seen them more than once and they still made his blood boil with rage. Oh how much he wanted to beat the fucker bloody for doing that to Daryl. He wanted to punch his friend's father so hard like he'd never done it before, he wanted to kill him with his bare hands but he also wanted to press his gun to his head and deliver to him to god's judgement their way. With two large rounds blasting his brains out through his fucking eyes. But he knew that it was too late to murder Will Dixon, because the guy had been gutted by walkers way too freaking early, and that more than a year ago.

 _I hope you fucker died real slow,_ he thought with an angry frown, still pretty much frozen in place because just for a moment his anger and bloodlust seemed to take over.  
Daryl eventually turned his head to look at him with a furious and unsure frown.

"What?" he asked angrily and annoyed.

"Nothing" Connor muttered after a while and then suddenly kissed him again, angrier this time, almost furious. And he finally let his hand travel further down between them just like last time, much to Daryl's discomfort. And just like last time the hunter tried to fight him off, to pull away and get out of his reach but Connor stayed all stubborn and determined, although he was a bit freaked out now as well. But he was determined to change things for Daryl, to make possible future attempts easier and less complicated so he just went ahead. He silenced his friend by keeping the kiss going and then moved his hand, after a short nervous pause, inside his jeans and briefs.

For a short moment both men stilled as they frantically tried to get used to this. It was pretty new for the both of them, and certainly a lot harder for Connor than for Daryl, who just squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back in surprise, breaking the kiss until he let out a low, throaty moan. He was a whole lot embarrassed but closing his eyes certainly helped there. It wasn't exactly the first time someone was getting into his pants and touching his dick. To put it bluntly. A bunch of years ago, when he'd made out with that waitress girl from Barksdale for the first time, she'd tried to do this shit as well, but much in contrast to right now he'd been able to fight her off and get back to business.

But it was a bit harder to fight that now because Connor was right, it had been too long, the world was fucked and after all the build up and dry humping it was almost getting painful down there. Not to speak about how freaking _stubborn_ and relentless Connor was compared to the chick. The rational part of his brain, that was getting replaced by the needy part, still acknowledged how fucked up and wrong that was, that this _Connor_ pretty much giving him a fucking _handjob_ right now. One more reason to keep his eyes closed and pretend that it was the stupid waitress from Barksdale.

_We've crossed that bridge now, haven't we? Do get off yer fuckin dream cloud driftin in time and space around the Virgin fuckin Islands and get a hold of the situation and possibilities._

And damn right he was getting a _hold_ of the situation now. He even snorted at his own joke.  
 _  
It's just a dick, relax, ye got one too,_ Connor tried to calm himself down as well, because for him it was just as awkward, maybe even more. It wasn't like he was prude or even shy. He'd done this sort of thing with women and it had been no biggy. Women had also done it with him, and he'd done it with himself (and everyone who said they didn't was a freaking liar, religious or not, Daryl fucking Dixon or not, _everyone_ wanked. period.), but this was…new _._

It was a fucking dick after all, right, but not his own. Someone else's. Which was…fuck. It was fucking weird okay? He'd never touched shit like this before. And damn right he shouldn't even..

He tried not to linger too much on the all to prominent 'gay' alert that kept yelling at him and tried to make him stop, he just tried to concentrate, tried to remember what sort of touch he liked and what got him going so he could reproduce it for Daryl. And the more often he did it, _moving his hand up and down, twisting it with every finished movement to add more friction to the tip, to slick it up so it wouldn't drag and burn, then adding more pressure to the base, stop, repeat, slow down, speed up, tease, give in,_ the less he actually minded it.

Even worse.

It was an accomplishment that made him feel _pleased_ with himself, and maybe that made him smirk a bit. Daryl was still pretty tense but slowly relaxing, now that his body was forced to move, whether he wanted to or not. The hunter kept moving his hip, subconsciously thrusting into the hand, eyes still shut as he slowly (and fucking _finally_ ) let himself go a bit more. Another obviously unwanted groan escaped the hunter's mouth, which made Connor chuckle and then grin.

Although he honestly didn't even feel like grinning right now. Just like Daryl he was pretty fucking needy by now, the tons of clothing in front of his groin where killing him because they were so fucking _tight_ and hindering, he also wanted to let go and if he was honest, just _fuck_ right now, but he knew that he wasn't going to get that, not with Daryl, not now when this was about Daryl, so maybe that frustrated him and made him a bit angry, and maybe he also started thrusting, shifting and moving a bit until he managed to trap his friend's legs between his so he could cause enough friction to his groin as well. Which reminded him of the most obvious part that frustrated him: the lack of a _woman_ 's body underneath him.

"I fuckin hate you" Daryl grunted in regards to Connor's chuckle, voice deeper and more strained from the arousal and trying too hard to sound normal, but it was true that he hated the fact that Connor was freaking chuckling when they were doing something as freaking gay as this. Because this was the truth which made him angry and frustrated him. He finally opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling with wide angry and pupil blown eyes, as reality forced itself back into his mind. The chuckle had reminded him that there really was no woman fondling him, the voice had been too deep, reminding him that Connor was indeed a guy, which just made him _angry_.

Here he was, in the middle of nowhere, next door to their new home, lying on the floor in the middle of some old, abandoned stinking _laundry,_ losing his freaking _handjob virginity_ to _his best friend_. And it was too damn chilly, the floor was too dirty and dusty and itchy, the hand on his dick wasn't all fragile and tiny and tender but rough and hardened and too strong, reality wasn't all porny and pretty and decorated with long hair and fragile hips and boobs. Nope. It was pathetic, dirty, raw and ulgy.

And the most fucked up thing about it all: he _still_ liked it. He knew that this was the closest he could get to peace, so he liked it, embraced it, and no longer battled it but actually welcomed it and felt grateful.

Because Connor was right, because this was the only way it could've ever happened. He knew that nothing romantic would ever happen to him, that nothing normal like relationships and marriage and kids and proper _good_ sex and all that stuff would probably ever happen to him, that this was all he would ever get. Although Connor was doing this shit with him now they had both set the boundaries by now and made it pretty much clear. They were just _friends_. Very good friends, who saw certain opportunities and possibilities in their tight relationship.

But this was it.

And nothing much else was ever going to happen. Because women weren't growing on trees, because he felt nothing with any of the women in Woodbury except maybe friendship, because other than that he just felt dead and broken inside. Truth be told, he was actually surprised that he still even managed to get a hard-on. Fucked up that he was.

And he wanted to laugh because all of that was so absurd, because he felt pretty good right now and was getting closer and closer to that blissful state, because although people said that sex and orgasms made them feel supergreat and superhappy, he also felt like total shit. It actually depressed him, how pathetic this whole thing right here was although he and Connor wanted it to happen and let it happen, how saddening it really was.

Here they were. Two fucked up, broken and depressed lonely guys. Fucking each other because they were all they had left in this world, because they couldn't get more or something better, because their old world didn't exist anymore, because they had lost pretty much everything, because everything around them was dying and fading away like the old abandoned and dusty laundry they found themselves in.

And although this was a first time it didn't made him want to cheer or feel relieved, it just made him feel more desperate and lonely.

He didn't let Connor finish, he suddenly pushed his hands and then whole body away, to the side, into the glass splinters, so he could flip their positions and finally be in charge. Because he could no longer bear it, the receiving, the waiting and being forced to think and endure, he needed to keep himself busy, to distract himself, to kill it with movement. So he turned them around and pushed the Irishman back, pressed him to the ground only to maneuver both his arms under the blonde's armpits so he could wrap them around his shoulders and cling to them with both his hands, to support his movement and abrupt thrusting.

He didn't care that at least half of his behind was naked in the air now, since Connor had moved both his jeans and briefs down a bit to get better access. He didn't mind, quite the opposite, he actually enjoyed the sudden freedom that came with this, the fact that nothing kept his best bits from moving wherever the hell they wanted. He was getting more desperate and frantic again, because his friend had done a pretty decent job trying to get him to the peak. He knew that once again it wouldn't take much to make him climax, although the whole topic was really frustrating him by now.

He hated that his stupid dick had to be so freaking premature, that this was another reason why he didn't like doing this sort of thing too much – he pretty much always came too freaking early, making it impossible for both him and whoever he was sleeping with to actually enjoy this sort of thing.

And just like the many many times before Connor tried to slow and calm him down with all sorts of gestures and movements, the gentle caressing of his lower back, the trying to pinch his side to slow him down, the kissing his neck and gently pushing him away to give him more space to breathe, but it was useless and did the opposite. It made Daryl thrust harder, made him cling tighter, made him act rougher.   
  
Especially when Connor dared to kiss his neck it animated him to do the same only rougher, because he actually _bit_ down and wouldn't let go until he climaxed with a surprised shout. And since no jeans or underwear was holding it back he stained both their shirts and whatever was between them, biting down harder, making the flesh bleed a bit. Funnily enough – the same spot where Connor had really been bitten by a walker a couple of months ago- something he certainly didn't like and made him feel uncomfortable, judging from the way he tensed in squirmed.

And the Irishman certainly wanted to complain about many things right now, the pain in his shoulder because it seriously hurt like a motherfucker (seriously, what was wrong with the guy? Biting him? What the fuck?), the fact that he now had disgusting sticky cum on his shirt and jeans (from an other guy! Gross!), or the fact that he couldn't breathe because Daryl was practically crushing his freaking chest and strangling him, but he wouldn't complain, couldn't complain, because this time he _wasn't_ freaking finished yet. Daryl obviously was because he finally relaxed on top of him, went absolutely limp even, like he seriously just wanted to fall asleep now and be done with the thing, a puddle of calmed nerves and satisfied needs, but this time he wasn't going to make it that easy for the guy.

Connor had dragged him out here, into this building, to get what _he_ wanted after all, get laid as in fuck somebody and not _get_ fucked. This had been the main reason why he had tried to give Daryl a handjob if he was honest. To finish him off as quickly as possible, so he could save himself from all the struggling, roughness and most of all, freaking _bruises._ But of freaking-course. Fucking Daryl, putting a spoke in his wheel just like every single time. Here he was now, bitten, almost strangled to death, with cum all over his favourite shirt. _Perfect_. Not.

He used the chance of having a relatively calm and weak Daryl on top of him to flip the both of them around so he could be on top again, although that instantly freaked the hunter out once more. He stared up at him with wide, surprised eyes, although his face still showed obvious traits of this post-orgasm blissful state. He didn't get to complain though because Connor pretty much did the same clinging thing and buried his face in the hunter's shoulder as well. He wouldn't bite though, or cling too hard, he wouldn't even thrust too hard. All in all he was more gentle, more agile, less demanding.   
  
His movement seemed to flow better as he moved against the hunter's thigh, but even he eventually sped up, got more desperate, breathed harder and clung tighter until his entire body shivered, his eyes squeezed shut and he tried _not_ to let out a deep, throaty groan which he still did, just more choked. All in all Connor was more reserved, more disciplined and more private about it, and Daryl even caught himself secretly watching. Not because he got off on that, screw you very much….no. He was actually just curious.

And that shit just made him realize even more what kind of huge fuck up he was.

There were two more slower thrusts against his thigh and then Connor stilled, taking a couple of deep exhausted breaths, trying to calm down, swallowing hard, getting back into reality. He then finally relaxed and collapsed as well, officially ending it.

Then it was perfectly quiet again.

Quiet and cold.

Daryl swallowed hard as well and raised a shaky hand, cautious not be seen as he tried to place it, almost gently, on Connor's lower back. But right then the Irishman suddenly moved, shifting his entire weight on shaky arms so he could haul himself up and off the hunter. Before the latter go the chance to initiate a tender gesture on his own.

Connor managed to crawl off of Daryl and then landed on his back right next to the hunter, staring at the ceiling and searching the pockets of his jeans (sticky, gross jeans. Yikes. He couldn't _wait_ to get changed) until he found the small and crushed pack of cigarettes. Daryl just stared at the rotten ceiling too, letting what had just happened sink in as he adjusted his clothes and pulled his briefs and jeans back up. Then he heard the flick of a lighter, a second later light flickered to his left and then he smelled smoke. He snorted.

The he faced the filter of a cigarette, which was held in front of his face.  
He shook his head with a gentle, exhausted chuckle and took it in his mouth, inhaling deeply and then blowing smoke at the ceiling.  
Connor hummed in appreciation and seemed to do the same, then he finally spoke.

"Sweet halle-fuckin-lujah" he stated and Daryl raised an eyebrow. He took another drag on his cigarette and then tucked his arm under his head.

"Y'mean the cig or the fuck?" he asked jokingly, and Connor snorted loudly.

"Dude" he said and then turned his head to look at Daryl.

"We're not havin this conversation."

The hunter turned his head and looked at his friend as well, cigarette still in his mouth.

"Why the hell not?"

Connor gave him his infamous 'Really?' frown and then turned his head again to look back at the ceiling, taking the cigarette between his fingers and then inspecting it for a moment.

"First of all, I meant te fuckin cig" he stated and then started laughing when Daryl punched his chest lazily.

"Bullshit, yah just jealous cos I won."

Connor laughed even more and turned his head again to look at Daryl with a cocky grin.

"Oh, what an achievement there, really. _McSpeedy._ I know that mommy and daddy kinda forgot ta tell ye about te bees and shit like that but here's the deal, being first's not always a good thing, y'know. Sometimes it's better t'get a hold of yerself and wait fer yer teammate, no matter how hard tha really is" Connor said and Daryl hit him once more, but the Irishman elbowed him back and laughed once more.

"Hard. Ha."

Daryl snorted and shook his head as he stared back at the ceiling.

"How old are yah, twelve?"

"Well, I ain't te one who prematurely comes whenever he just hears someone say 'tits'" Connor muttered and Daryl gave him an angry glare.  
He then just huffed and took another lazy drag on his cigarette.

"Screw yah. Talk t'me again when yah ain't covered in jizz like some faggot in some gay porn flick."

"Oh do shut up" Connor growled angrily and looked down on himself, trying to get rid of it and then wiping his hands on Daryl's shirt.

"Getcha mitts off me!" the hunter instantly complained and shoved his friend away, grabbing his shirt to make sure it was alright.

"Didn't seem t'want tha a couple of minutes ago" Connor responded smugly and they both fell quiet, Connor smirking, Daryl scowling.

"So what, we fuckin each other now?" the hunter asked after a pretty long while when their cigarettes had almost burned down to their butts. Connor turned his head and just looked at him for a while, waiting for Daryl to look back but the hunter just glared at the ceiling with an angry look on his face. So Connor turned his head again and stared at the ceiling as well.

"'s that an invitation then?" he teased and Daryl frowned angrily.

"Fuck you."

"What, you? Me?"

The hunter finally turned his head to glare at his friend, trying to hit him once more.

"Cut it out, jackass."

Connor chuckled gently but then stopped smiling. He put the cigarette out right next to him, on the ground, making it hiss and then die.  
The Irishman cleared his throat and then shrugged.

"You got a problem with that?" he asked quietly, avoiding eye contact.

Daryl pressed his lips together and frowned once more, unsure what to do or say.  
 _The question really was: did he?_

Sure, the whole thing today had been pretty messy and clumsy. And he could put however he wanted, it still was what it was – pretty fucking gay. Cos dude plus dude equals gay and he wasn't gay. But he couldn't deny that it had made him feel better. He really trusted the guy next to him. With his life. And no matter how much he _hated_ his guts sometimes because he was so annoying, he also mattered pretty much to him. _Pretty much_. He let out a sigh, blowing out the last bit of smoke.

"Yah the only goddamned friend I have. _Good_ friend. Don' wanna screw this up" he admitted once more, reminding Connor of their little conversation in the alley. He shrugged and started biting his fingernails because he seriously just hated the freaking topic. The Irishman nodded calmly.

"I still am, y'know. Never said that shit'd change. Cos it fucking won't, alright."

Daryl snorted.

"So what, we're friends who fuck each other? When'd that ever work out? Besides, we're dudes, man. I ain't…"

"Jesus fuckin Christ, get a recorder, record it and put it on a loop and play it one more fuckin time cos I didn't get it the other hundred fucking times" Connor said angrily and Daryl threw his cigarette in his direction but missed.

"Screw yah."

Silence.  
Daryl let out another exhausted sigh and shrugged.

"Hell I don't know. We go on like always. Yah annoy the crap outta me, we kill walkers, I bash yah bro's skull in, if we fuck – we fuck and that's it."

Silence.

"But that still don't make me…" he quickly tried to add, which made Connor roll his eyes in frustration.

"I got te fucking memo, alright?! Jeeeesus fucking Christ, Daryl. Yer my super _straight_ virgin redneck buddy…"

"I ain't no fuckin virgin…"

"… _._ _straight_ ing away in _straight_ land without any chicks but still _straight_ and not a virgin cos he's so fuckin _straight_ cos that's what they do in _straight_ -fucking- _notgay_ land. Now go grab me a six-pack and a sandwich. Cos yer obviously the _straight_ girl in this _straight_ - _notgay_ friendship."

And this time Daryl really punched his chest hard, which made Connor both groan in pain but also laugh even.


	13. Rosary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry it's taken me so long this time to update this story. It's just that it's finals week right now since my third semester is about to end. And I had loads of revising and reviewing to do. But I got some time today and finally managed to finish this chapter. It's not so action packed or shippy packed this time, but I need to keep the story going and get my characters /plot ideas from A to B, so here we go. Plotty chapter. It's pretty much centered around Murphy/Conphy this time because the other chapter was all about the Connaryl, but Daryl does make a small appearance as well =) It might seem a bit boring and like the story is stagnating, but trust me, it won't be like that for too long. Hope you still like this chapter!
> 
> And another little info: this fic won't be that much of a trainwreck (hopefully). I took some time this time to actually plan the whole story out. I got the entire plot until 4x08 planned out. It doesn't really look like I'm still following the season 4 plotline but trust me I still do, I will get to the whole disease and 'murderer within our walls' thing very soon. I just feel the need to give the characters a little break at first, especially since I want to dig deeper into the sexual/new part of the Connaryl's relationship a bit more before bowling it all down again :D (sorry but not sorry). Call it the calm before the storm. I'm also going to integrate some more comic ideas/plot snippets in this story again, like a mixture of the comic prison storyline and maybe a tiny bit of Alexandria storyline because my Woodbury kinda is like the safezone right now.

The letters were getting more and more blurred. He tried really hard to concentrate, tried to keep reading, tried to get every little information on Ireland in his head, but it was getting harder and harder. It felt and looked like the letters were slowly turning into those of another language. Because from time to time, the whole thing suddenly didn't make any sense anymore, he couldn't recognize the shape of a certain black letter, then some more, then a whole passage and then…

Nothing made sense anymore.

Murphy closed the book with a frustrated grunt and threw it away, at the edge of the bed where it landed with a soft plop. The younger MacManus rubbed his right eye, the one that was causing him problems since it was closer to the scar on his forehead. And oh how that one was making itself known now. Whenever he was straining his sight or concentrating too hard his forehead would still burn with pain, pounding and making itself known.

For just a moment he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead hard, trying to make it stop, although he knew it was useless.  
He then leaned back with a hiss and took a deep breath.

"Ah, jesus.." he whined and then looked around, already feeling his muscles tense, his head ache, his shoulder clog up, his fingers tense and trying to cramp and twist. He was actually glad that Connor wasn't here right now. He clumsily got off the bed and promptly ran into the beside table, making it shake and causing the bible which Connor had put there to fall down.

"Fuck" Murphy complained and instantly knelt down to get the book so he could put it back on the table. He froze and frowned a little bit when he noticed the rosary again. He'd seen it earlier, lying there on the bible, but there hadn't exactly been that much time to ask Connor about it. He'd even forgotten about that one, just like Connor.

But it was lying there now, face down, moved. He took it with clumsy, shaky fingers to put it back with the bible, but he hesitated once more. He gently moved his thumb across its wooden surface, touching the beads, examining it with a curious look on his face. He knew that Connor always wore one like this. He was also pretty sure that his twin had left the apartment with it on…

He turned the rosary around in his hand and then noticed the small letters there, leaning in, trying to deceiver them, trying to remember what they meant. And once again he cursed under his breath because now it was even too hard to read two freaking letters (at least he thought there were two, kinda looked like it, but also could be four letters, fuck his brain wasn't functioning anymore).

Once again he felt pretty stupid, very frustrated with himself despite the little progress he'd had with Connor earlier today.  
Which just made him even angrier when he remembered his sibling's suggestion.

Glasses.

Connor seriously wanted to bring him glasses next time.

_See, this was the reason why he so needed to join his stupid brother on supply runs, just to keep him from bringing glasses with him to make him look like a fucking nerdy milksop. Oh he was going to show him that he didn't need fucking glasses._

Murphy closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed the bridge of his nose while taking a deep breath, even trying to mumble the alphabet.

abcdefghijkl...

M.

He opened his eyes again and looked at the rosary once more.

The letter M. Two times, just like…

 _M_ urphy _M_ acManus.

He chewed on his lip and quickly turned his head, peeking across the bed to make sure that he was still all alone inside the room. No Connor to see this.

"Hm" he mumbled and turned his head to look at the rosary in his hand once more, the blurred image of the bible on the ground also in his view.

It kind of made sense, actually. Connor had one, they were twins, the letters…. It had to be _his._ He just didn't get why Connor hadn't even given it to him yet. They had been here pretty much all day, talking nonstop, 'remembering' nonstop, but not once had Connor wasted any time on actually telling him about this rosary, what was up with that.

MM.

He rubbed his chest gently, remembering the countless times when he had just felt naked, like something was missing. It just _had_ to be his. Murphy shrugged and then took the rosary to put it around his neck. He then felt the wooden cross on his flat stomach, pressed it to it and then grabbed it a bit. He couldn't quite explain it since he honestly couldn't remember much, but it just felt….

Right.

Like home.

And even if it turned out not to be his, he liked to have something that could remind him of their lord every day, his protector, his savior, who had spared his life, somewhat made him heal and who had reunited him with his brother. Speaking of which. He turned his head for a final time just to make sure that Connor really wasn't there, that he hadn't see him take the rosary. He put it inside his shirt, just like his sibling, and then got back up on his feet, placing the bible on the table and then hissing once more because he'd gotten up too fast, which caused his brain to hurt once more.

Geez. It was one of them days again.

_Cigarette._

_Yep, that's what he needed._ Cool water on his burning forehead and then some nice smoke in his lungs.

Murphy entered the small bathroom with a sigh and went for the tiny mirror cabinet when he suddenly froze right in the doorway.   
He'd already mentally prepared himself to light some more candles when he remembered.

Electricity.

He reached to the right, for the light switch there and flipped it.

It still made him smile, and maybe he was childish enough to turn the light off and on multiple times, just because it was so much fun and so nice to see a shining light bulb. Well, it certainly wasn't super bright or steady. It would flicker from time to time, go on and out, but it was still there.

Murphy chuckled. Funny how such simple things could make them happy these days.

He finally looked at his reflection in the mirror. He knew that it was probably the light, but he was pretty sure that he looked like that nevertheless:

_He looked like shit._

It was one of the harder days when the pain and headache made him feel a bit sick, angry and tired, and this was really showing now. Not only he but also Connor had been straining him pretty much with all the hard work of trying to get his basic skills back. The remembering, the trying to write and read and move his right arm and all that shit. It had been good, had made him feel stronger and not like a victim, but now he was just exhausted. He looked pale and his eyes were all small and sunken in, and just like the many many times before the sight made him cringe.

He looked horrible. Because it was –so- unmistakable.

The younger MacManus leaned forward a bit so he could be closer to his reflexion, to really inspect the ugly thing on his forehead, the scar from the surgery, the scar and the dent from the bullet. He looked like he'd been butchered. There was nothing really circular or nice and neat about it. No movie shit. It was just plain terrible and ugly. No wonder it hurt like a bitch, no wonder everyone kept staring at him.

He placed two gentle fingertips on it, rubbing it, feeling the scar tissue, the dents and bumpy edges.

Murphy knew that it was just phantom pain. The shot had happened a year ago. Everything was healed. (He still couldn't believe that shit, unbelievable, truly some fucked up miracle, movie material, when did something like this ever happen in real life? How could he possibly have survived a wound like this?). He immediately reached for his newfound rosary, to hold it tight. _God had protected him_. Plain and simple. He was loved, protected, everything was fine.

But the dull, pounding, rhythmic and steady pain was still there, just like all the other phantom things and real things. If he concentrated he could still feel the paralysis, could still feel his heart pound in his chest and that so hard that it was ringing in his ears like he was underwater. If he concentrated he could still hear Connor's mad crying and desperation, drowned under endless pain and numbness and burning head and shoulder and dry eyes and the inability to move. He still knew exactly what his brother's crying and begging had sounded like, what his own begging for Connor to lower the gun had sounded like in his head and then….

BAM.

Murphy startled once again, freaked out by the vivid, painful memories.

Seeping through his brain, piercing it, burning it up, then nothing. It felt like even now he could remember every millisecond of that shot, just this one tiny moment of that day in Boston. And how fucked up this really was. The bullet had destroyed so much, made him forget so many important, precious things. But something as horrible as this? Of course he still had to remember that one, of course it still had to haunt him even to this day. And all that just because Connor had pulled one little trigger.

He finally managed to look away and faced the sink instead, saw how tightly he was gripping the porcelain by now, breathing going faster, head pounding harder.

_No. He wasn't angry with Connor anymore. He wasn't hurt anymore._   
_Everything was fine. He wasn't going to fucking panic or cramp up now._

Murphy took a couple of deep and steady breaths, very eager to blend all the terrible images out, and instinctively avoiding another look in the mirror. He knew that he needed to calm down first before he could face that scar again. This was another reason why he didn't want the fucking glasses. Sometimes he liked seeing not clearly, seeing everything blurred and distorted. At least he didn't have to see _this_ then.

He'd gotten pretty good at this by now. The fighting the sudden nausea, the sudden panic mode and his body's eagerness to cramp up and listen to his confused brain's strange, distorted commands. He still appreciated that Connor actually wasn't here right now to help him. Part of him wanted some help, of course. Some fussing over him, someone to see how bad he felt, someone to make him feel better, someone to say nice things.

But at the same time he _didn't_ want this at all, because he knew that this was a luxury he shouldn't give in to. There had been some pretty tough times out there, when he'd been all on his own, and he'd only gotten through this because he had learned how to properly take care of himself, that only he himself could truly control his temper, his emotions, his fear, his injuries.

Connor would just make it worse with all his worrying and trying to motherhen over him, his constant apologizing and that fucking look on his face that just riled Murphy up all over again. _No. Connor wasn't here. Connor hadn't meant to shoot him. It had happened a long time ago, everything was fine, everything was okay. 1….the one time he had visited that abandoned zoo in Virginia..2…. the light bulb was working, there was light and electricity..3….. he had Connor back. Connor. A home. A family. He was loved. He had a beautiful home country, Ireland. A past. His rosary, and now a new pretty home. Everything was cool._

He took one final breath and then finally looked at his reflexion in the mirror again.

Battle scars.

That's what Keith had liked to call it, showing him his own scars from the war. He had always admired Keith. Loved him like a father, even. In just a couple of months they had formed this tight mentor-student/father-son relationship. He already utterly adore Connor again, despite the obvious new problems between them, but he had to admit that Keith had been better at this thing. Protecting him. Helping him out of this state. Making him feel like a strong, wounded soldier and hero who was perfectly capable of sorting out his own fucked up life. He still missed him very much. His death had happened way too fast. Way too fucking unfair and dishonorable.

Even now he could almost hear the soldier say all these things to him, the mocking him, the calling him a whiny sissy, the constant willing him on. In a strict, but still pleasant way. Connor was different there. Connor treated him like he was made of glass, like he was a weak baby. Sure, he also felt protected with him (uberprotected with the locking up bullshit and giving him extra food), but it didn't make him feel strong enough. Capable enough. Good enough. Connor made him feel weak and dependent.

_No. He was going to do this on his own._   
_Yes he had a fucking ugly scar. Yes, he couldn't really read shit anymore or remember shit but…_   
_Battle scars. Will power. Fuck yeah.  
_

He took a final deep breath, facing the scar, staring himself right in the eyes.

Now he was just Murphy MacManus. Slightly crippled Murphy MacManus, but still. He was good.

He took a bunch of pills and the old, oily disgusting ointment that stank like hell, all the stuff that Connor had brought him after his run into town to that megastore. His twin had also stolen some painkillers from Woodbury's pharmacy. Murphy had been mad at him at first, just like during the thing with the pineapples. But now he was actually glad that Connor had thought of him on that trip, that he'd really brought him something to make it better. Now all he needed was the typical best medicine.

_Cigarette._

After his little attack in the bathroom Murphy had fully recovered by now, to a point where he was even smiling a bit again. He grabbed the small pack from the counter (and got a bit grumpier again when he noticed that there weren't that many smokes left in there, _again_ ) and then headed for the window so he could open it. He wanted to let the smoke outside but he also did it so he could just sit on the window sill for a bit to look outside and maybe check where Connor was, now that he'd thought that much about him anyway. He made himself comfortable for a moment and just looked at the sky, staring at the stars, breathing smoke into the air and even smiling a bit.

Now he was at peace again.

He honestly liked it here. He just knew that everything was going to be fine.

 _We're going to be just fine. Mark the date. We're writing history today_.  
Keith had told him that the day he had died. He'd always been very optimistic and disciplined about the future.

_D'ye think we can ever get this world goin again? Make bigger parts of it a safer place again? Like, more Woodburys? Civilization?  
I dunno, Murph. We certainly know that there's other survivors out there. Not just us, or our group. I met people on my way down here. You met people on yer way down here. We saw groups of people in Augusta, in Savannah. They can't be that bad. At least not all of 'em. Maybe there's other Woodburys out there. Nice people. Civilized, friendly groups like ours._

That's what Connor had told him.

He also remembered the latest addition to their town, the man Daryl had brought with him earlier today, Bill or Bob or whatever his name was. A friendly enough stranger. A new addition. Maybe they could even keep this going. Add more and more people to their community, maybe he could finally convince Connor and the others to go back to Savannah and bring Vernon and Brie and the others here. He wondered how Joyce was doing. Murphy took another long, loving drag on his cigarette and then finally stopped looking at the sky and let his gaze wander.

It was still kind of absurd to see all this again, and although it felt like home already it also made his skin crawl a bit. The strong differences between their little world in here and the world outside. Woodbury was just a tiny spot of warm light and torches and light bulbs. Clean streets and freaking barbecues. And now he just needed to turn his head slightly to the left, overlooking all the other small apartment buildings and two-story shops, further to the right until he saw….

Complete darkness. Maybe a shuffling shadow moving about between abandoned houses and bushes, maybe the distant barking of wild dogs, but other than that…Darkness. Broken down, rusty cars. Trash and debris. Chaos and nature, that was slowly reclaiming the more abandoned parts of the rest of the town they were living in. Just like the Boston quarantine zone back then. Their tiny 'safe haven' on the airbase, their tiny light bubble so close to the dark and sinister silhouettes of Boston's tallest skyscrapers.

In the far distance he could the see moonlight illuminate an old McDonalds advertising sign, which made Murphy snort. It kind of made him curious yet again. This was the curse of the outside world. It was creepy as fuck, it looked dangerous, it _was_ dangerous, it was deadly, harsh and silent. But at the same time it was damn interesting, made him want to go out there, explore, go look. Find more people. More and more people until they could breathe life into this whole town again. Maybe in a bunch of years he could even eat a freaking selfmade McDonalds burger with cheese and…and Rick's cucumbers and tomatoes, maybe with Daryl's stupid meat and…

His stomach growled loudly and made him roll his eyes.

One stupid thing about Woodbury.

Rationing.

And _fuck_ was he hungry. He knew that Connor wouldn't let him go out there, but he kind of wanted to check everything out around here. Look for his own food like he'd done it back before all this, just like Connor was doing it, just like Connor's stupid redneck boyfriend was doing it. Speaking of which. He slowly and clumsily moved around the window sill until he managed to turn around so he could face the other wall because he wanted to check on those two fucked up freaks and their….thing or whatever.

Except that they weren't there. Murphy frowned a little and leaned a bit forward to get a better view. His bad right eye caused him some trouble, and everything was pretty blurry in the distance, but he was still pretty damn sure that the two people on the bus weren't Connor and Daryl. Because the both of them didn't have long hair and certainly didn't have such womanly figures.

_What the fuck._

Murphy frowned even more and turned his head to look at the other wall on the other side of town, but Connor and Daryl weren't there either. And that was a bit strange. He felt an instant ping of jealousy and worry. His brother had told him that they were on watch duty. Watch duty that meant sitting on the bus for hours on end. But he wasn't there. He knew that it was probably nothing but it still freaked him out a bit. It didn't just freak him out, it made it even more obvious: _He was bored to freaking death up here with no one to keep him company._ He wasn't tired yet. Exhausted, yes, but he didn't want to go to bed yet. There were no tvs and he couldn't read another single line today. He wanted some company, someone to talk to, something to keep him busy.

But Connor probably wasn't even in town anymore. Or worse. Murphy rubbed his mouth with a little stubborn growl and shook his head. Maybe he'd gone with the stupid redneck again. He'd asked him to stop that shit. It made him jealous. Not just because Connor was with someone else (who had stolen his face!) but also because he was probably running around outside.

Probably.

Well. It couldn't exactly hurt to go look.

Murphy dropped his cigarette with a sigh and got up to make his way downstairs, despite the curfew.

* * *

"Stop that crap" Daryl growled as he drove the car back to their part of Woodbury.

Connor turned his head slightly and raised an eyebrow.

"Stop what crap?"

Daryl looked at him for a moment and then shook his head with a snort while looking back on the road.

"Grinnin like some kid in a toy store."

Connor snorted and shrugged, grinning even more by default.

"Fuck you" he said all casual and then looked back on the road as well.

Daryl looked at his friend yet again, observing his figure, noticing that the smile wouldn't go away. He kind of felt like smiling as well because he was pretty relaxed and chill right now, compared to his usual, pissed self. But he didn't want people to get the wrong impression, because there obviously was nothing to smile about the outside world, especially since they had done the dirty job of burning rotten bodies before _this_.

"Geez. Yah always like this after shit like that?" he mumbled and Connor chuckled.

"'t was usually the other way round."

Daryl snorted once again.

"What, you made chicks grin like that? Guess they had pretty low standards, then."

"Or maybe they weren't just so fuckin prude and a bit more fuckin grateful."

"Fuck you."

There was a long pause until they could already see the wall, where Michonne and Andrea were still keeping watch.

"Y'want me ta come around later t'night?" Connor asked then and Daryl turned his head in surprise to look at him.

The Irishman wasn't grinning or chuckling anymore, it seemed to be an honest question and not some sort of prank. Maybe that threw Daryl off guard a bit. He still wasn't used to this whole thing, that despite Murphy being there Connor still wanted to be his friend, that he seriously still wanted to spend time with him. He still wasn't used to all the attention he was suddenly getting here, not just from Connor but from all sorts of people in Woodbury. He really wanted to say yes. He still liked the whole thing, although he would never admit it. The spending the night with someone, just so someone kept him company. He also would never admit that he really _liked_ Connor. His company. _Their_ friendship. But this was just awkward.

He quickly tried to hide his surprised and almost childish reaction to that question by just snorting.

"So what, now yah wanna cuddle? Yah really are freaking gay, aren'tcha."

Connor raised an eyebrow and looked a bit offended, but the truth was that he'd seen that answer coming anyway.

"Fuck you" he just muttered and looked away again, pretending that he didn't care as well.

Daryl looked at him yet again and then dared to smile a little bit, somewhat trying to calm the situation down again and suggest that he'd been playing him.

"No, man. 'm good."

Connor looked at him yet again, an unreadable expression on his face, noticing the tiny smile. He then nodded.

"M'self as well."

Daryl stopped the car in the meantime to wait for Andrea and Michonne so they could open the gate and let them back in.  
The hunter used the time to inspect his friend once more, raising an eyebrow.

"Yah should probably get rid of that shit on yer shirt though" he said, maybe this time a bit more awkward. Now that they were no longer in that post coital mode he was pretty rational about the whole thing yet again, felt more awkward, and cared a whole lot more. The stains on Connor's shirt might not be that obvious to any of the people inside. They were all dirty after all, especially after the dragging bodies and all the other work they had done during this night watch shift. But still. To him those stains were awkwardly obvious, a constant reminder of what they had done, how much he had lowered his standards, how much he had screwed his family's views. Connor looked down on himself and grabbed his shirt, trying to get rid of the stains once more and cursing, even pulling a face.

"Yikes. Y'mean throw that shirt away and burn the fuck outta it" he muttered and Daryl snorted although this time he was a bit offended this time. The sick part of him actually liked the fact that he had 'marked' his friend with this and he didn't want him to burn it. The sick part of him wanted _everyone_ to see, especially Murphy, wanted them to see that the guy _belonged_ to him and him only.

"Looks like we're all set" Connor noted in regards to the now open gate.

Daryl looked straight ahead and nodded.

"Yeah. Doin just fine" he muttered and started the car again to get back inside.

* * *

Murphy walked down main street, occasionally turning around and rubbing his mouth. Maybe he was a bit nervous and a whole lot curious. It was a bit strange to be out here like that, on his own,seeing all this and knowing that he wasn't supposed to be here. Although some of the lights and pretty much all of the lanterns and torches were on Woodbury still didn't look too inviting during the night. There was no one out here apart from the people on watch duty, because there was a strict curfew.

Normally.

At least that's what he'd been told. Most of the time he respected the rules and blindly followed them, but just sometimes, like right now, he liked to screw the orders. Liked the thrill of it. He also seriously just wanted to know where Connor was. In the end he knew that he was going to be seen anyway, so he just kept walking and stopped feeling creeped out by the whole thing.

He asked around most of the walls, where two people each were keeping watch, but he didn't know any of those people so he felt a bit awkward. He kind of understood the whole mentality and hierarchy of this town by now, that there was _Woodbury_ but also _the group_ , and pretty much all the people on watch duty were from Woodbury and didn't know where 'the blonde Irish guy' was. After his third attempt and still no luck Murphy eventually didn't even care anymore who he asked, he just wanted to find his sibling. He was a bit surprised at first, to see someone else other than him walk around outside, someone who obviously wasn't on watch duty, but he just went ahead and asked the man as well when they crossed paths.

"'scuse me?" he asked politely, still feeling a bit awkward because he didn't know any names at all. He recognized the man's face though. He'd been there during the party, one of the two men who had taken care of Daryl's deer and who had hosted the barbeque. The guy was taller than him, more muscular, he also looked a bit angry. The man had been lost in thoughts by the looks of it and only just looked up now, eyeing him head to toe and then recognition suddenly flashed across his face.

"Uhm…'m looking fer m'brother. Have ye seen him?" Murphy asked and looked around once more, still a bit awkward. "His name's Connor. He's supposed t'be on watch duty but I can't see 'im anywhere. Sorry, 'm still new t'all this shit."

The man raised an eyebrow and then smirked.

"So you're Irish's bro" he observed and Murphy looked at him for a moment, maybe a bit taken aback and intimidated by the man. He couldn't quite put a finger on it. There was just something about the guy. Not to mention the fact how Murphy still couldn't really trust people. But he tried hard to stay cool and relaxed.

"Well, aye. Kinda hard t'miss. So, have ye seen Connor around?"

The man observed Murphy a little bit longer and then suddenly offered him his hand.

"Name's Terry" he said and Murphy frowned a bit at first, but then took the hand. "Murphy."

Terry nodded and then went on. "No, I ain't seen your brother. Looks like he ain't back yet" he said, still shaking Murphy's hand. The Irishman frowned even more, not only because he wondered where Connor had gone and why he wasn't back yet, but also because he knew that he –knew- the guy, the name rang some bells and he was sure that Connor had talked about him before, he just couldn't freaking remember, not with the headache, not with his previous stupid little attack in the bathroom, not…

"Oh" he simply said and Terry finally let go of his hand. "There was some trouble by the wall" the man informed Murphy and pointed at the final wall, the one the younger MacManus had not checked out yet, where the women from Connor's 'group' were keeping watch right now. "He'n redneck guy went to check it out. They should be back soon enough."

_Redneck guy. Great. So his suspicion had been right. Connor had really left town to go out with this stupid asshole._

He scowled a bit and chewed on his lower lip, not really pleased with the answer. Of course he had to stay in here, still pretty much locked up and bored to death whereas Connor got to do all the fun bits like going on supply runs or checking out town at night.

"Hm" he murmured, put both his hands in his jeans pockets and started walking again. "Thanks, fella" he went on and went in the direction of the wall, to maybe climb up, check the situation, see what had happened and ask the two women if they happened to know more. "Hey Irish!" the man suddenly called after him, which made Murphy stop and turn around with a frown. He didn't like to be called that but decided not to say anything, because the guy had kind of helped him and answered his question after all. Terry came after him, still looking at him in that strange way, like he was examining him.

"They given you a job yet?"

Murphy snorted.

"Y'mean apart from helpin Rick pick flowers and sitting on me ass all day cos I'm not allowed t'go outside with the others? Nope." he answered, only just realizing how truly bored he felt.

Sure, he already loved Woodbury with its walls and all that. He liked the community, the safety, now that he'd managed to help them get rid of all the walkers. But he had to admit that he wasn't used to this. He was used to running around this destroyed world, the running from people, the fending for himself, the protecting weaker people like the people from Savannah. This had been his first real day here in Woodbury, without any disturbances or jobs and tasks, and he was already bored to death.

Terry stopped walking as soon as he was close enough to Murphy and nodded, chewing on his lip as well.

"I heard the redneck say that you and your bro worked in a meat packing plant, that true?"

Murphy remembered that as well. His and Daryl's little 'face off' during the party, the thing with the deer where he'd already seen Terry. He could remember this incident, but couldn't remember if the meatpacking statement was true or not. Connor had also kind of told him about this the other night, but his mind was just blank in that regard. It was just…empty. He couldn't remember this part of his past. At all. But he didn't want Terry or anyone else to know about his memory problems, he didn't want to be pitied or looked at like that, so he nodded.

"Aye? What's that got ta do with anything?"

Terry put both his hands in his jeans and shrugged, staring at the wall for a moment.

"Well, everyone around this town needs to do some job to keep the community going. We got supply runners, doctors, people in charge of the weapons, and I'm in charge of the whole food storage and preservation process. Me and my…" he took a deep breath and looked down. "Me'n my brother, we were butchers. Family business. Downtown Macon. And now that…well, now that Tay's gone, I'm stuck doing all that shit on my own. Got me thinking."

For just a moment Murphy stared at the man, completely dumbfounded. He wanted to hit his own head because he was so stupid, but he finally got it.  
 _Daryl'n I kinda fucked up though. Taylor died. One of the supply runners. 'n now his brother Terry's real mad at me._

"Yer _Terry_ " he observed and the man frowned. He then laughed gently and nodded.

"Eh, yeah. I kinda, told you right from the off, you deaf? So anyway…"

"'m sorry. 'bout yer brother" Murphy immediately said, quietly, honestly, and angry with himself once more because he couldn't believe that he'd been so stupid to forget this important piece of information. The look on Terry's face changed for a moment, he looked upset but at the same time incredibly angry, his fists clenching and jaw line getting harder.

"Yeah, well" he muttered and looked down, obviously trying to get himself back together. There was a long pause, then he finally started talking again.

"Anyway, redneck brings his shit along all the time. Deer, rabbits, squirrels, whatever he got. But the guy's too all high and mighty. Obviously. Being part of the council and all that, of course they're too king and princess to do all their dirty work. Me and your bro ain't exactly on good terms either and I sure as hell ain't gonna ask _that_ guy, but we definitely need more people to process our game. And there ain't no better guy than someone like you, who already got the experience and who ain't a pain in the ass. I don't have the time to teach any of the other sissies, and I need support there like yesterday."

Murphy wanted to interrupt the man, wanted to tell him that he couldn't even remember shit about packing and processing meat, but he thought that this would be pretty rude and inappropriate right now. Especially since he knew that it was his sibling's fault that this man's brother was dead, and this just made him feel guilty as well. He hated that family worked like that, that he instantly felt the need to clear Connor's name and make up for it, so he kept quiet and just listened to what the man had to say, what he wanted him to do.

"So if Sheriff Pick-A-Flower and his crew ain't got a job for you already, do me a favor and come around as soon as you got the time, alright, kid?" he said and even placed a hand on Murphy's shoulder to squeeze it like they were best buddies already. The younger MacManus instantly winced because it was the shoulder with the scar from the bite, but before he even got to say something, reply to the request or complain about the touch they were both interrupted when the gate was opened and a car entered their town.

Both Terry and Murphy looked up, then Terry's face fell.

Connor and Daryl were sitting inside the car, talking about something, smiling, all nonchalant and relaxed like everything was fine, like they had all the time in the world. Murphy wanted to scowl at first, jealousy and dislike for Daryl coming right back to life, but in the end the relief took over. His brother was back, he wasn't alone anymore, everything was fine, everything was okay.

"See you later, Irish" Terry suddenly said and started walking again, his mood completely changed. Murphy looked after him for a moment, a bit confused and unsure what to think of the man, but when he heard the car doors open and shut he focused on Connor and Daryl instead. Or more like: he tried to ignore Daryl, _the stupid fucking face stealer_ , and concentrated on Connor. He approached the car, hands still in his pockets, still unsure whether he should smile or be mad.

"...'n then we should tell them about the construction area just off the interstate? The one we saw on our way t'Augusta? I bet there's enough material t'really pull this shit off" Connor said and walked around the car, still oblivious to the fact that Murphy was pretty much right behind him.

"Yeah, and I say we better check out other towns and hunting stores t'put up traps first. Ain't no use if we start building crap without ever being sure we're alone and safe out there. Gotta remember that yah the only freak walkers ain't gonna attack. Our people are more vulnerable. We can't exactly take that risk and 'm pretty sure that the others 'n Rick are gonna…" Daryl suddenly trailed off when his eyes met Murphy's.

The younger MacManus was now pretty much standing right behind Connor, patiently waiting for him to finish talking. Both Daryl and Murphy glared at each other for a moment, the hunter instantly annoyed and angry because his talk with Connor had been interrupted, and Murphy annoyed and angry simply because of the fact that Daryl was there talking to his brother.

Connor, who was seemingly irritated by Daryl's sudden pause. He turned around to see what was going on. He widened his eyes in surprise when he saw Murphy standing right behind him. The younger MacManus glared at Daryl a little while longer and then finally looked at Connor as well, smiling a tiny bit and then noticing how dirty, roughed up and bloody his twin actually looked. There were all sorts of dirt stains on his sibling's shirt.

"Murph! What are ye doing out here?" Connor asked, and much to Murphy's surprise he didn't even sound angry or overly protective.  
The dark-haired MacManus brother shrugged.

"Got bored up there 'n wanted ta check if I could help or somethin.." he muttered and Connor's face lit up.

It made him very happy how things were these days, how after the first bunch of days and all the struggling to get used to each other, and Murphy giving him a bit of a hard time with all his blaming, this was actually the very first day where his sibling showed honest signs of warming up to him. They had spent at least half the day together, and although there had been some harsh words and fighting whenever Murphy got frustrated during their 'remembering' process the whole day had been pretty good. And now he even came looking for him and wanted to keep him company, which made Connor even happier.

Warmth and love rushed over him when he also remembered that this was typical Murphy behavior, his need to constantly be entertained and have fun, his curiosity and desire to move around and just _do_ something. For a moment Connor just beamed at his brother, all smiling and adoring him, and maybe that made Murphy feel a bit uneasy.

"Wha?"

The loud slam of a door startled both MacManus twins and made them turn their heads. Daryl had done the sudden noise and was now walking around the car, crossbow around his shoulder. He glared at Murphy for a moment and then fixed his eyes on Connor. Murphy narrowed his eyes a bit and then looked at Connor as well, curious to see his reaction to that look. His older sibling was staring back at Daryl and then chewed on his lips, only to stare down at the ground while placing both his hands on his hips. Daryl snorted and headed for his apartment.

"See ye t'morrow at the council meeting" Connor called after him after a moment and Daryl waved him off, head down.

"Yeah, yeah" came the grumpy answer, then Daryl disappeared inside the building.

Connor and Murphy stared at the door a bit longer after that, then Connor let out a gentle huff, which made Murphy concentrate on him again.

"What happened out there?" he asked curiously, fixing his eyes on his sibling's clothes once more. Connor looked down on himself and grabbed his shirt, rubbing on the dirty spots and moving around a little more awkward than usual.

"Walkers. What always happens, right?" Connor said and looked at the wall where Michonne and Andrea were now keeping watch.

"Buncha those came around the corner. We took care of 'em before they got te chance ta pile up again an then got rid of the bodies down bridge street. Nothin too dramatic" Connor said and gently nudged Murphy's lower back, which still made the younger MacManus flinch a bit. The older of the two twins had not really noticed the reaction because he was already heading for their apartment.

Murphy instantly followed Connor, once again turning his head to fix his eyes on the building Daryl lived in.

* * *

Murphy was sitting on their bed, eyes still fixed on his brother. He thought Connor was acting a bit strange right now, like something had happened out there, something he would not speak about. The younger of the two couldn't quite explain it and maybe he was a bit freaked out by the thing, but for some reason he could _just tell_. Something was up, he could feel it in his guts. He just didn't exactly want to ask. So he just sat there, chewing on his fingernails, watching how Connor walked over to the cupboard to get himself one of their few clean shirts.

"So what've ye been up to in the meantime, everything alright?" the blonde asked casually and Murphy stopped chewing on his fingernails. He fixed his eyes on the bathroom door for a moment, remembering his little attack from earlier this evening. It had been a couple of weeks since his last attack, and he was a bit worried that it could get worse again, but he decided not to talk about it. Just so he could keep Connor from freaking out again. He knew that his sibling had promised him that he would stop his crazy fussing and locking him up thing, but he honestly didn't trust the blonde there.

"Aye" he just muttered and turned his head to look at Connor again, only to widen his eyes in shock and spring back on his feet.

"Holy fuck!" he exclaimed and Connor turned around in surprise, now bare-chested because he'd gotten rid of his dirty shirt.  
He threw it in a corner and frowned.

"What?" he asked and then turned around to face Murphy, worry and concern showing in his eyes.

"Murph, wha's wrong?"

Murphy stared at his sibling with wide eyes and then pointed at his bare chest.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, Connor, were ye bit?!" he asked in shock and pointed at the blonde's shoulder, where he could see the clearly visible bloody marks of teeth. Connor instantly reached for the junction of his shoulder and neck and rubbed it. "That…" he muttered and then turned around again to quickly get rid of the rest of his clothes, jeans, briefs, everything, throwing it on the pile as well and then putting on a new pair of briefs.

Murphy continued to look at Connor with wide eyes and finally tried to get closer, completely freaked out by the whole thing. He vaguely remembered what bites did to a person, how fast they were getting worse. He knew that he and his sibling were 'immune', but he had no idea how many bites they could really survive. And panic rushed over him because he didn't want to lose his brother after only just having found him, and he got so angry with him because he couldn't believe how _calm_ Connor really was despite that _thing_ on his shoulder.

"Why are ye just fuckin standing there, we gotta get ye to those doctors, fuck, why didn't ye tell me right away?" he shouted and tried to reach out for the blonde, trying to make it better somehow, but Connor moved out of his reach with an annoyed growl. "Fuckin relax, Murph, alright. It's not a walker bite" he said and successfully pulled his new, black shirt over his head so he could hide his shoulder. He then turned around and headed for the bathroom, which just made Murphy furious.

"Then what te fuck is it?!" he shouted and Connor froze.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, Connor. Don' fuckin lie ta me. I know what a fucking walker bite looks like. And 'm pretty sure I can tell that this ain't an animal bite.  
And it's not like ye can bite yerself so it just gotta…"

"Fuckin Daryl bit me, alright?" Connor answered with an annoyed look on his face. Heglared at Murphy with an angry frown.  
The younger MacManus raised both his eyebrows in disbelief and snorted.

"Aye, sure."

"Fuckin sure. We got in an argument, started fighting and it got a bit nasty. Now fuckin relax. Do ye really think I wouldn't tell people or even risk comin back here with a bite? Last time I got bit I made sure I stayed as far away from people as possible until I could be sure 'm no threat to anyone. And I sure as hell would do the same thing 'n stay as far away from ye as possible in case another one of those undead fucks bit me. Now chill, alright? Jesus fuckin Christ."

Murphy just looked at him, still stubborn and furious, but he kind of had to agree with Connor there. But the anger wouldn't go away, especially if what his brother said was true.

"Why the fuck would he fuckin bite you, though. What te fuck" Murphy asked with an angry frown.

Connor instantly reached for his neck again and rubbed it, and the younger MacManus immediately noticed his brother's reaction. How he would suddenly avoid eye contact and bit his lower lip hard. It was beyond obvious that he was hiding something, and Murphy already knew that they couldn't really hide things from each other, like there was a lie detector embedded in their shared mind.

"Well, he'n I got quite the history of nasty fights."

Murphy frowned and eyed Connor had to toe once again. He'd already seen the bunch of bruises on his brother, remembered how Connor had been limping the first day they had met, he also remembered the bandage around his left hand which his sibling had gotten rid of just a couple of days ago.

He shook his head with a snort.

"Next thing yer fuckin telling me is tha he did the thing with the hand as well."

Connor snorted angrily.

"Don' be silly. I did tha one myself cos someone'd cuffed me."

Murphy just kept looking at Connor, trying to understand him, to get the whole thing. His sibling seemed to be pretty pissed by now, his face looked so different compared to the happy smile he'd seen just a couple of minutes ago. And once again he noticed the change, like there were two Connors. The one he was when nothing was about Daryl, when it was about him, when it was just the two of them. Connor looked happier then, he was gentler, nicer, in charge, capable.

But whenever Daryl was around or when it was about Daryl he was completely different with him, more annoyed, almost pissed, a bit more submissive and most of all: it always felt like he was keeping secrets. Murphy let out a gentle sigh.

"Seriously, I don' understand how ye can even hang out with a fuckin redneck like tha. He's a violent prick" he muttered because this was true, he really didn't understand what Connor liked about the guy.

"He's not so bad, y'know. If ye get him. Trouble is, most of ye people just don' fuckin understand 'im."

Murphy snorted and sat back down on the bed.

"He fuckin _bit_ ye."

"Yeah, well…shit happens" Connor growled and then quickly disappeared inside the bathroom. Murphy stared at the door for a moment and then heard the splashing of water.

Connor quickly tried to clean himself up with the freezing cold water and then inspected himself in the mirror. He sniffed and got rid of some more dirt in his face and ruffled his hair, making another bunch of glass splinters from his fall in the laundry fall into the sink with a gentle clinking sound.

For just a moment he stared at the splinters, remembering everything that had happened inside the laundry.

_Seriously, I don' understand how ye can even hang out with a fuckin redneck like tha._

Connor shook his head with a gentle snort. It wasn't like he could tell Murphy the truth. His sibling kind of knew, he had told him about some of it after all, but he sure as hell wasn't going to tell him about this.

_So what, we fuckin each other now?  
You got a problem with that?_

He automatically reached for his rosary, only just noticing that he had worn it during…..

_You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination._

He grasped the cross tighter and swallowed. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ He was so fucked already. Because trouble was: he didn't mind. He'd liked it. This was the truth, when he thought back, when he thought about the 'laundry incident' it didn't even make him cringe even more. He didn't want to deny it or pretend that it didn't happen. It had been good. It had been fucking _brilliant_.

_No man, I'm good._   
_M'self as well._

He'd always liked danger. The thrill of something. This was the reason why his plans had always been so crazy. Jumping off buildings, falling through air vents, entering a sight inside a box. He liked dangerous. He liked angry, tough shit. He liked how the adrenaline would pump through his veins, make his heart pound, make him feel like he was above it all, like he could do anything. And now he was lying to his own brother, he was doing _that shit_ with Daryl, he really considered saying yes to Carol…

He was so screwed.

Connor gently pulled on his rosary and winced a bit when the beads moved across the faint bite on his shoulder. He hissed and then moved his shirt a bit so he could inspect the bite. It didn't look too bad. It really wasn't deep and it certainly didn't look like a walker bite but still. It was going to bruise, it was visible and it had been pretty damn fucking unneccessary. But this is what their relationship had always been about. Hurting each other, marking each other. Blood and pain and fights over dominance and who got to win.

Maybe they really should've thought of a more believable explanation. He knew that they couldn't possibly tell everyone the truth. ' _Oh yeah, that happened when we were fucking each other'_ _._ He so wasn't going to tell anybody that. But Murphy had made it pretty obvious. People wouldn't suspect a thing like that, but the opposite. The more plausible and dangerous thing that could happen to them these days.

Walker bites.

At least three quarters of this town did not know about his and Murphy's immunity. He didn't want to break the news to them because he knew what this whole thing could turn into. Mass hysteria. Crazy shit. Murphy had told him what had happened to him after telling people about it, and he remembered what had happened to himself back in Augusta. People could turn into fucking animals over this. He knew that the others couldn't care less about his or Murphy's life. If they could get a cure and protect themselves from walkers, they would be _very_ willing to kill them, cut them open and do all sorts of shit to get a vaccine.

He actually needed to tell people the truth to make it clear that he had not been bit by a walker but by his friend. A fight was a possible explanation, but he wasn't too sure if people were going to buy that excuse. He seriously needed to talk to Daryl about this and come up with a decent lie. He couldn't exactly run around with a fucking scarf around his neck when it was 500 freaking degrees out there. So really. The bite had been really fucking unnecessary.

Connor took his time to get cleaned up, think this through and calm down. He then finally exited the bathroom to get back to his brother.  
Murphy was already lying in bed again and blew some smoke rings in the air, obviously still bored, which made Connor smile.

"Ye should probably organize those and not smoke all at once, dear brother o'mine. Ye would not believe how fast yer running outta cigs around here."

"Fuck ye" Murphy simply muttered and blew out another smoke ring. He then cleared his throat and rubbed his nose while shifting a bit to sit in a more comfortable position. "Yer probably right, though" he muttered and then looked at Connor, who made himself comfortable next to him. Murphy just looked at him for a while, occasionally fixing his eyes on Connor's neck, trying to figure out if the were still arguing or if everything was settled. Connor frowned and looked back at him.

"What?"

Murphy shrugged and looked away.

"Nothin"

There was silence for a while and Connor soon fished for his latest old and worn newspapers and magazines, the ones he'd brought back from their run to the Big Spot. He was still into this whole thing, reading the paper, articles and doing shitty crosswords puzzles.

"Let's see what's on the news…oh. Mysterious outbreak, injured people attacking and biting others…how strange, that's totally recent…" he muttered as he leaved through the brownish newspaper to find something new. He knew all the last news of their old world by heart by now, because he had read it in a shitton of different newspapers and magazines. Murphy chuckled and Connor smirked at him.

"Ye wanna practice some more?" he asked then and offered his sibling the paper, but Murphy shook his head.

"Mhmh, done enough of that stuff today. 'm tired" the younger MacManus murmured. Although he really wanted to be able to read and write and do all that shit without having to think too much about it, he was pretty exhausted from all their practicing that today. He was grateful that Connor was trying to help him there , though( and he better do that shit, considering that this was _his_ _fault)._ Connor looked at him for a moment and then automatically fixed his eyes on Murphy's forehead, probably thinking the same. The younger MacManus instantly rolled his eyes, rubbed the scar and then looked away.

"'s alright, Murph. We got all te time in the world" Connor reassured him with a calm and quiet voice, which just made the dark-haired twin snort.

"Stop fuckin petting me" he complained and Connor raised a hand in defense to soothe his brother.

"'m not, 'm not, alright. What-fuckin-ever" he answered and then concentrated on his paper again. Murphy watched him for a while and soon started fumbling with the rosary around his neck, when he suddenly remembered that he hadn't even asked Connor about it yet.

"Con?"

"Aye, Murph?" Connor said, but wouldn't look up.

"'s tha mine?" he asked and pulled the rosary out of his shirt to lift it up and show it to his twin.  
Connor finally looked up and then fixed his eyes on the rosary, just staring at it for a while.

"Where'd ye get that?" he asked and Murphy shrugged.

"Fell down when I ran against the bedside table. I saw the letters and thought, well.."

Connor stared at the rosary a bit longer, obviously thinking about something. For a moment he even looked a bit upset. Then he looked back at his paper and nodded.

"Aye. 's yers. Our Da made those fer us before he left."

Murphy examined the rosary again and twisted and turned it around with clumsy hands. He wished he could remember it. It felt familiar, like he vaguely knew it, but for the most part his brain went blank. He didn't just wish that he could remember his own possessions, he also wished he could remember what his father had been like, the man who had made it. Connor had told him bits and pieces that night when they had started to talk about their past, but he still didn't know much.

"D'ye think he'd still be around if he hadn't…y'know" Murphy muttered and jerks his head to the side, remembering that Connor had told him that their father had died in a gunfight. Connor visibly winced. He didn't like the whole talk. Not one single thing about it.

The rosary was one thing. It was hard seeing it around Murphy's neck once more. There was so much history connected to it now. He remembered how he had taken it from his brother's bloody body. He remembered how hard this had been. Wearing it every single day after that, for a whole year. So close to his heart, constantly reminding him of his loss. Just a few of months ago he'd finally been able to let go. To 'bury' Murphy. To slowly get over losing him. To get rid of his things.

And now he was back. Now the rosary was back, the memory. Now he was wearing it again. Until the day he had to do the same... _No. He couldn't go through all that shit again._ He didn't ever want to take the rosary from Murphy's bloody corpse ever again, which was exactly the reason why he hadn't given it to him yet and why he didn't even want him to wear it. It was a dangerous reminder now.

He also didn't like their whole talk right now because he hated remembering his father, hated remembering his death. Because it still hurt very much. He'd been a complete wreck in prison, just like Murphy. And that for weeks. He'd done a pretty decent job forgetting all that shit. Daryl and the group had helped him there. Almost gotten him to a point where he'd been able to 'pretend' that he'd been all on his own all the time anyway, pretend that his past had never happened. But Murphy was back now. His old life was back, demanding to be remembered, to be acknowledged, no matter how much it hurt.

Connor snorted.

"Who Da? Ye bet yer ass, Murph. The old man was one tough fucker. Why'd ye think we're still here. MacManus family, hard t'kill."

Murphy smirked affectionately.

"Wish I could remember 'im."

Connor wanted to say many things right there. That there wasn't much to remember anyway. Their father hadn't been there to raise them, they'd only spent a bunch of years with him and even then he'd never talked to them that much. They'd been doing their thing, taking care of the sheep and riding around Ireland, their father had done his own thing. The old man had always been even far more obsessed with their job and religion than them. And although they had never talked about it Connor had always known that his parent's past was dragging him down and haunting him. Losing their grandda like that, being in prison for so many years, so yeah, some things were better not remembered.

He wanted to keep the illusion up for Murphy, to make him happy and feel comfortable enough in what was left of this family.  
Which was another reason why he wouldn't tell Murphy about another thing.

The cancer.

He'd been kind of lying there. He was sure that if their father hadn't been shot that day and if they had survived everything after the outbreak then their father wouldn't be around that much longer in a world like this. Even before all this Murphy had not known about it. Lung cancer. Their father had broken the news to him one rainy night in Ireland, when Connor had asked him about that constant terrible coughing of his.

It had been kind of a shock, but not too surprising, really. They were a family of heavy smokers. His father had done everything, smoking hundreds and thousands of cigarettes and cigars for many many decades. Only a matter of time. So if he had to think about it, no matter how painful it really was – it had been a good thing that their father had died that day. In a hail of bullets. A heroic death. No more prison for him. No more slowly letting the tumors eat him away.

He wouldn't tell Murphy anything about that, just like back then, because once again he was suddenly reminded of small Murphy.

_Where's Da, Connor? D'ye think he misses us? D'ye think he'd like me? D'ye think we look like him? Why won't Ma talk 'bout Da? When is he comin back, Connor?_

The countless questions curious Murphy had always asked him during their childhood because their mother had been too drunk, too angry, or too hurt to talk about it.  
So it had always been on him to calm his sibling down, to protect him, to make him feel safe, to make him feel loved.

_He's gonna come back Murph, he loves us. Ma keeps tellin me ye look like 'im. We're gonna find him, we're gonna have a Da very soon._

Everything was still the same. Painfully the same.

Just like back then he forced himself to fake a smile, to show false optimism.

"'m sure he's watching over us and that he's real proud'a us, Murph. Yer gonna remember 'im. Don't worry."

Murphy kept looking at the rosary, turning it around, wrapping the beads around his fingers with a quiet and thoughtful "Hmhm."

But deep deep down Connor hoped that his father and mother weren't watching any of this, wished that they hadn't seen any of the things he had done to his sibling, with others, to himself.


	14. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty long chapter this time. And a bit too bitchy, I know. But it's all part of a greater concept and I'm gonna resolve the Conphy issue very soon, maybe even in the next chapter, it's still all build up, there's gonna be more Connaryl (both slashy and normal), more action whenever they leave Woodbury, the survivor group will make another appearance sooner or later, so please be patient, please hang in there, don't give up on me just yet. I also promise that I'm not gonna make Daryl too girly. He's gonna get some more action and tough shit soon. And he's kinda hard for me to write now? Please remember that this is my first real shippy story, so I might screw this up. Sorry about that. Hope that at least some of you are still reading this.

Just like the countless times before Connor was actually the first to wake up. He'd slept a bit better this time, not just because the thing with Daryl had pretty much exhausted him and calmed him down yesterday, but also because he didn't have to worry about Murphy for once. Because he wasn't gone or missing or in pain or mad at him, no, they had actually gone to bed in peace. And he was waking up like that now, too. Calm. Peaceful. It even made him smile.

He woke up to the feeling of some warm weight on his chest and around his waist. He didn't open his eyes just yet. For a moment he actually enjoyed the feel of this, the embrace, the steady rising and falling of a chest against his own. It was the most beautiful thing he could ever feel. And it just made him smile even more, he even felt a bit of a lump in his throat because it made him so incredibly happy. Connor slowly and tiredly opened his eyes to really see it, to let the sight of it sink in and bury it deep in his memory.

12 months. That's how long he had spent thinking that this chest would never rise or fall again, that this body would never draw another breath. But it was doing just that. The long, slow inhale. Pause. Exhale. Slow inhale. Pause. Exhale. Repeat. He could feel this movement forever. He could listen to it forever. Connor smiled and gently turned his head to look at the breathing figure that was lying half on top of him, the raven black tousled short mane and warm cheek on his chest, the heavy and yet pleasant arm around his waist.

Murphy.

Connor shifted a tiny bit and smiled even more, because he honestly couldn't believe this.

Murphy was breathing. Part of his old self was obviously still in there because he'd gone back to this. The clinging to him. The holding and cuddling. Back in the old days prior the apocalypse ( _and god forbid, old Murphy would kill him if he ever told anyone about this_ ) Murphy had been a cuddler. He'd always been the one to touch, to embrace, to hug and share love, to come into his bed late at night, be it as kid or as adult, so he could cling to him and sleep with him in his bed.

They had always been terrible at this. Crying and screaming their goddamn lungs out whenever their mother had tried to put them in separate beds, like they had always been so eager to be one person, one body instead of fraternal twins. But of course, they were two people, soul split in half, and this was the closest they could get to each other.

Connor smiled affectionately and placed a gentle hand on his brother's head to comb his hair out of his eyes, to give him as much love as he possibly could, to truly make him feel how happy this whole scenario made him. One week of struggling, one week of fights, denial, accusations and some hate, but Murphy was slowly, oh so slowly opening himself up again, letting him back in, coming back to him, despite the problems.

The younger MacManus instantly flinched a bit, away from the touch, muttering in his sleep, frowning, making it obvious that even then he didn't like being touched on his head. Connor winced as well, because now that Murphy's fringe was out of his eyes he could see it again, the terrible scar, he could feel it, each pump, the raw surface, the scarred skin.

He was still so fucking sorry.

He immediately stopped combing Murphy's hair but still placed a gentle hand on the top of his head, to feel it, to make it better, to make it heal. Murphy had squirmed and moved a bit but was now lying still again, one louder exhale escaping his mouth until he simply decided to sleep on. This was one good thing about his brother – he was still sleeping like a log, which allowed him to be so close to his sibling and actually be able to touch without freaking him out.

So Connor enjoyed this for a while and put his other hand on Murphy's upper arm, the arm that was wrapped around his waist anyway. He also stroke this one with his thumb, fully enjoying the fact that he could actually do this with Murphy without feeling strange about it or fearing a possible fucking punch. It felt so natural, and it only just dawned on him how –much- he had missed this during the past year. Being able to hold someone like that, to be physical and affectionate and loving and not give a single fuck about what this looked like. He'd missed the near, the touch, the tenderness, and it really made him understand why he'd been acting so fucking weird around Daryl before getting Murphy back.

The Irishman had always been a very physical person around people he liked. –Especially- around Murphy. He looked at Murphy again, pondering on that. Back on the farm he'd been the one to cling to Daryl and, fuck you very much, tried to cuddle but of course, not with Daryl. Of course not.

For just a moment it suddenly made him feel weird.

New barriers were –obviously- there. Because now it was the other way round as well. Not just Daryl had Murphy's face, no, Murphy also had _Daryl_ 's face now. If he got the angle right and squeezed his eyes shut a bit it could really be Daryl, and this just freaked him out. Murphy and him were all about touch and affection and dependency and love. But Daryl and him? The exact opposite. Distance and anger and longing for independency and general hate. At least from Daryl's side of the relationship. It would be weird picturing a scenario like this but with Daryl, it was against their laws, a _whole lot_ weird actually.

It was really fucking strange.

Connor let go of Murphy with a frustrated growl and stared at the ceiling, still feeling the weight of Murphy's head and chest on his body.

Of course it had to be like that now. Lookalikes. It was a fucking curse. Because he was back to it now. Every time he was around either of them. The constant switching back and forth. He was with Daryl and he thought about Murphy and missed Murphy when he shouldn't be thinking about his brother during some situations they had, and when he was with Murphy and enjoying their brotherly moments from their old life he had to think about Daryl and he missed Daryl and thought how he kind of wanted Murphy to trade places with the guy so he could have moments like that with him as well.

_Jesus fucking Christ.  
He was turning into some fucking chick over this._

He needed a smoke. Badly.

Speaking of which. His bad smoker's cough was making itself known and that more and more, tickling the insides of his throat, aching to be released and just…Cough. He couldn't fight it any longer and started coughing, instantly shielding his mouth with his fist. Connor raised his head and flexed his abdominal muscles while doing so, as he tried to catch glimpse of Murphy's face. Murphy's head rose and fell with each rhythmic and abrupt movement of his chest as his lungs tried to get rid of all the sticky, dry slime. For some reason the younger MacManus still wouldn't wake up though, although his older half had been so certain that this would be it.

But Murphy slept on.

As soon as Connor was done coughing he let out a surprised, gentle chuckle and combed his sibling's hair again, which only resulted in another one of Murphy's attempts to stop the whole touching of his sensitive head.

And so the blonde MacManus did.

He didn't know for how long he was just lying there, staring at the ceiling, out of the window, at the walls and at his sleeping brother on his chest that was slowly beginning to ache, but Murphy eventually stirred. Or more like, started moving and struggling a bit. His eyes were all squeezed shut from one second to the next until the struggle became more and more violent, making it obvious that he was having a bad dream. But Connor didn't even really register it as 'just a bad dream', it still freaked him out, scared him that something was wrong with Murphy, that his abused head was causing him to have a seizure like the one he'd seen Daryl have back when he'd almost died on that table in the infirmary of the prison.

So Connor instantly sat up and grabbed Murphy by his shoulders, trying to wake him up and stop him from doing this.

"Murph" he said, worry and fear showing in his voice. For just a moment Murphy even started making whimpering sounds like he was seriously freaked out and scared, like he was trying to get away, and Connor could feel it in his bones, since their weird twin connection was coming more and more back to life. And it freaked him out so much that he shook Murphy harder and said his name louder this time until Murphy suddenly snapped his head to the side and then opened his eyes abruptly, sitting up a bit while doing so, breathing in sharply.

"'s alright, brother. Murph, Murph..look at me 'm here, 's Connor, I'm here, it's alright" Connor immediately said and sat up as he tried to get hold of his brother so he could calm him down. Murphy looked around the room in panic for a second longer and then buried his face in his hands so he could rub it with a tired, shaky exhale. "'s alright, Murph, just a bad dream" Connor said once more and tried to move closer, placing a hand on his siblings shoulder and trying to make it better, except that Murphy suddenly jerked away from him and that almost violently.

"Don' fuckin touch me" he snapped but kept his face buried in his hands, making it even more obvious that the dream must've been horrible. Connor swallowed hard and looked at his sibling, taken aback by the sudden change of mood. He believed to know what this was about. Bad dream in which his sibling had obviously been trying to get away from something, to flee, something that had scared the living daylights out of him and now he wasn't allowed to be close to him and touch him.

That day.  
The walker attack and the gun.

Connor swallowed once again and looked away, quickly trying to blink the images away, but they were still burned into his mind and he was sure that he'd never get rid of that, just like Murphy didn't seem to be able to let go.

 _The walker. Biting Murphy's neck. The sick crunching sound._  
Murphy, staggering towards him, bloody, reaching out for him, croaky groans escaping his mouth, disguised begging sounds, the gun, the shoot.  
The hole in his head and bloody Murphy on the floor.  
  
"'m sorry" he suddenly heard Murphy mumble and looked at his sibling again. The younger MacManus had buried his face in the thighs of his cocked legs, arms folded against his forehead as he tried to calm down. Connor just kept looking at him. He really wanted to cross the short distance between them, hold his brother, tell him that he was there and that he was going to protect him and make him fine but of course, how was he supposed to do that when –he- was the monster in the closet Murphy was scared of this time.

"It's alright, Murph" was all he could say instead, their secret code words that had so many meanings.

Murphy finally stopped burying his face and sniffed once, rubbing his nose, then his eyes, until he finally fixed them on Connor with a tiny smirk.

"Did I wake ye up?"

Connor shook his head and relaxed a bit more. Murphy smiling at him was a beginning.

"Been up fer at least 15 minutes."

"Coulda woken me up" Murphy mumbled as he shifted and rubbed his eyes once more, only to cough a bit as well since the same smoker's cough plagued him.  
He scratched his chest and cleared his throat.

"Nah, ye need ta rest."

Murphy shifted some more, his usual restless spirit coming back to life. He then moved closer to the edge of the bed so he could reach for the old lamp on the bedside table, the one that wasn't even working anymore. But this didn't matter because he didn't want to turn it on, no, he reached for what was hanging there, the rosary, his protector, his link to god.

He leaned back and put it around his neck, feeling it on his stomach and rubbing it a bit. It made him feel better almost immediately.

"You alright, Murph?" Connor asked as he observed his twin and considered the rosary a hint that maybe it was okay to talk.

"Hmhm" Murphy said and then looked at his sibling, suddenly shrugging. "Just a bad dream."

Connor kept looking at him for a whole while longer.

"D'ye wanna…"

"No, Connor, I don' wanna fuckin talk 'bout it" Murphy interrupted him, instantly annoyed and looking away.

Connor let out a gentle sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose with closed eyes, trying to calm himself down and not take it too personal. _Murph's always cranky and pissed in the morning_ , he tried to remind himself. He needed to function today, right from the off, for Murphy, for this community, for this town. No blaming or pitying himself.

Murphy took a moment for himself so he could calm his nerves as he wrapped the beads of his rosary around his fingers, over and over again, pulling, relaxing, pulling again. Now that the terrible images of walkers tearing him to shreds and burying their teeth in his neck or Connor standing in front of him but not hearing his pleas and shooting him instead were gone he was back in the real world again. Woodbury. With his brother. A new day. A new world. A new life.

And he suddenly remembered that this was actually his first real morning here where Connor wasn't locking him up, he didn't have to lead walkers or away or where he wasn't actually lost. No. A new bright morning, waking up, minding his business, his old schedules here in this new town.

"Con?" he asked, the nightmare soon forgotten because now he was actually curious.

"Aye?" Connor said with a tired, flat voice, making it obvious that he was far from letting go and forgetting about this just yet. The older of the two MacManus twin had gotten off the bed by now to get dressed so he could go downstairs to get them breakfast. "Do they have a church here? Or mass or stuff like tha?" Murphy asked and looked from his rosary to Connor, who turned around and looked back at him, now with a curious rather than tired look on his face.

"Well…" he muttered and quickly pulled his new shirt over his head. "'s not really a church. They dragged some cross and candles around and dressed te place up a bit with chairs and tables. And there's no real mass or anything like that, though. Hershel speaks and reads t'us sometimes, even I did it once or twice, but not so early, actually."

Murphy just kept looking at him.

"I still wanna go."

Connor smiled at little and looked at his sibling for a moment.

"Okay. Aye. We can do that. 'f course."

* * *

It was –really- weird this time. He liked it a lot, but at the same time he didn't like it that much. More old habits. More from their old life. Connor opened his eyes for a moment and just stared at the ground to his feet, at the back of the chair in front of him. His hands were folded in front of his belly, he could clearly read the letters on his finger, _Veritas,_ reminding him of his old life, his strong beliefs, his love for god.

Connor raised his head a bit so he could look to the side, look at the person next to him. Murphy was actually sitting there, _really_ sitting there. He was no longer an illusion, he was no longer going insane over the loss of him. No, this was Murphy, his old Murph, sitting next to him in church, just like the countless years before all this.

It was so abstract, really.

Last time he'd been sitting next to Murphy in a church like that had been in Boston. With no dead people walking around. Their only fear back then, right after their escape from prison, had been getting caught and put back in prison. How fucking absurd. Bedtime story material now. A joke, even.

But now?

They were back together. Side by side. Just like back then. Connor and Murphy MacManus. In church. Devotional. Loving god. Obedient. Praying. For just a moment he closed his eyes and played pretend yet again. There it was, the distinct smell of their church in Boston. Their monsignor's words. Mrs Fitch from Athens Street, Dutch Gallagher from Buckley, all of their former neighbours, sitting around them. And if he concentrated a little more he could almost hear the constant swooshing of cars outside, the countless horns and sirens and jumbo jets and….just the sound and smell of Boston, with Murphy right beside him. But it only got replaced by the sound of burning fire and screams and snarls of thousands of undead and the stench of rotten, walking corpses.

_Boston's lost. I saw it burn to the ground. Wasn' much left of it. It's just... gone._

Connor let out a gentle sigh and opened his eyes again, trying to concentrate on what was here now.

The only true part of this entire illusion was actually his brother.

He really wanted to concentrate on his prayers, be like Murphy, say his prayers, talk to god, forgive, be calm and pure, find peace. But he couldn't do that shit right now. This formerly so old and well-known tradition was suddenly so new again, so strange and unfamiliar in this new world, and he couldn't help but look at Murphy instead of actually praying. Study his face. Be happy that he was there, be happy that this part of his life was back but at the same time….

This whole thing scared him more and more. Scared him shitless in fact.

First the talking about the Boston Incident, Murphy kind of forgiving him, the first attempted hugs, Murphy asking to remind him of their past, the fact that Murphy was sleeping in his bed with him, that he'd asked about their Da and friends, that he was now even wearing the rosary again, that he'd been sleeping so close to him today….everything was slowly getting back to normal although it was a bumpy ride, and the going back to normal was exactly what freaked him out so much.

Sooner or later Murphy would start relying on him again. Sooner or later Murphy would fully forgive him, be his twin brother again, share his soul, be with him, follow him everywhere. And it was the following he was afraid of, because last time Murphy had relied on him that much and followed him everywhere he'd ended up on that street in Boston with a walker behind him, biting his neck and almost killing him.

"Yer fockin loud when yer thinking" Murphy suddenly murmured, eyes still closed, and obviously confused by Connor's constant moving and looking around.  
The older of the two cleared his throat and looked down again.

"Sorry."

He closed his eyes again and _forced_ himself to forget about all that nonsense now. This was about god. About them. He had Murphy back. He was fucking _happy_. And he finally started praying, asked for forgiveness, and he also asked god to please not take his brother away again after getting all of this back.

* * *

Murphy's mood had changed drastically after their early morning prayers. Like the procedure had cleansed him, calmed him, made him feel better. Now he was even smiling and pleasurably taking drags on the cigarette that danced around his smirking mouth, both his hands buried in his jeans, excitingly looking around all the morning fuss in Woodbury.

Connor was standing right next to him, cigarette in his hand and not his mouth. He was still a bit broody but getting better by the minute, simply because Murphy's emotions always affected him as well. Soon he could forget about his little downtime and smiled as well. He was also looking around the town, but not just to watch the daily routine but to look for the council and Daryl, since they had agreed to see each other there.

He loved Murphy to death and he was so glad to have him back, but he actually looked forward to being with Daryl a bit. If only just for an hour. His friend usually really helped him after worrying his freaking head off like that, the hunter knew exactly how to ground him, calm him down, pull him back into this new world, since he'd only ever been in this world with him.

"What's te plan fer today? They gonna gimme a real job and make me join some group?" Murphy suddenly asked, remembering his little chat with Terry yesterday, remembering that everyone had a job and task here. He didn't really want to bring it up, considering the history this man had with his brother since it had been kind of Connor's fault the guy's brother was dead now. But he was still curious about the job thing, which was why he decided to ask his brother directly about it.

Connor looked at him and shrugged a bit while scratching his jaw.

"I dunno, Murph. 'm gonna meet up with the council in a couple of minutes and see if I can bring it up."

Murphy listened up at this, remembering his little chat with Rick regarding the council topic.

"Right. Yer part'a that. Sheriff told me" he observed and kicked at a stone, all lazily and a bit bored already.

"Can I come with ye?"

Connor smiled at him and leaned his head back at bit.

"Not just yet. Just like I said. I'll try ta bring it up. We'll get ye integrated in this town soon enough. All ye can do now 's…"

Murphy snorted angrily.

"Oh so, what, just cos I got no club card 'n batch fer yer little boys club I can't join?"

Connor took a deep breath and tried to stay calm.

"No, Murphy, just listen. I don't know how the council really works, they just put people on there, who they…"

"Then why not bring me along?"

Connor closed his eyes for a moment and lifted his head, trying to keep calm, although Murphy's constant fucking nagging was really getting on his nerves right now.

"Cos I don't make the decisions around this fucking town, alright?" he snapped, a bit harsher than intended, but he was finally getting it across. Murphy fell silent and just looked at him.

"People asked me t'join, as they did with all the others. 'm not saying yer not capable of being on the council, fuck, take me spot any day, fer real. But see it from their perspective. Yer a fuckin stranger t'them, and ye've been here in this town fer only a couple'a days. Don't ye think it's a bit early ta be making decisions fer this _entire_ community when ye don't even know shit about its people and structures?"

Murphy remained silent. He looked pretty stubborn and almost bit down on his cigarette but he wouldn't say anything, maybe he shrugged a bit but he kept listening. Connor moved his hand through his hair and let out another frustrated sigh.

"I said 'm gonna deal with this, bring it up, see what the others say, and in a buncha days 'm gonna drag ye along anyway, okay? But right now I need ye ta fucking chill, alright?"

"Alright, geez. Calm yer fucking beans" Murphy muttered and then grabbed his cigarette to drop some ash.  
He looked down at the ground, even chewing on his lower lip with that displeased look on his face. But he seemed to be understanding now.

"And what exactly do ye want me t'do in the mean time?" he asked quietly, kind of giving in but obviously not liking it.

Connor wanted to let out a frustrated growl but wouldn't do anything like that. But here it was.  
Slowly crawling its way back into their lives. Murphy, asking for his guidance, Murphy, wanting to follow his lead.

"I don't know, just…. Maybe ye should take a little break fer now? Ye only just got here, and after all the chaos maybe ye could use a little rest and…"

Murphy let out a loud, angry snort and wanted to say something about how this constant 'protecting' him and keeping him from everything was getting stupid, but when he looked back up he suddenly saw them. The couple of people he knew from Connor's 'group', walking towards them, heading for the town hall. It was obvious, really. They just had to be 'the council'. _Might as well be a flashing sign above their heads_ , Murphy thought with a ping of jealousy.

Because really, what was this now? Day 4? 5? A week with Connor? And he still wasn't allowed to do or join shit. It was ridiculous, really. And of course. He got even angrier when he saw the person behind the old man with the white beard he thought was Hershel. Crossbow. Stupid sleeveless shirt, stupid leather vest. Stupid crossbow.

Daryl.

_Of course this fucker had to be part of this council of theirs._

When he turned his head to look at Connor the whole thing just got even worse. His brother was obviously trying to hide it and play it down, but there was still a tiny smile, and he looked happy about the fact that this stupid redneck was around now. But then Connor looked back at him and gave him an even brighter smile, obviously trying to make peace before going back in with the others.

"I'm gonna work this out. Promise" he said, and Murphy tried really hard to stay angry with him.  
Part of him really was, but he couldn't be mad at Connor when he was giving him that fucking smile of his.

"Fine" he gave in and winced when Connor patted his shoulder.

"See ye later, Murph."

"Don' take fuckin too long" Murphy complained but fixed his eyes on Daryl in the meantime, who was staring back at him with just about the same angry look on his face. Of course, even when they were going through a certain range of emotions the fucking face stealer even had to steal those and look exactly the fucking same.

"Aye. Be back before ye know it" Connor assured him and then finally joined the others, greeting them, only to pat Daryl's back and go back inside the town hall with him.

Murphy stood by the door a bit longer and stared at the entrance, suddenly feeling left out and lonely. He chewed on his lower lip with a frown and finished his smoke, hoping that maybe if he stayed here long enough Connor would come back outside and ask him to come and join the meeting but of course, no one would come.

He threw his cigarette away and decided that _fuck Connor, he didn't need a fucking babysitter anyway and that he could handle himself just fine.  
_

* * *

"Are ye still up fer that task of yers?" Murphy asked grumpily as he entered the house Woodbury used for food processing and storage. Terry turned around in surprise to look at the Irishman who was standing in the middle of his domain. The younger MacManus was looking around the room with both his hands in his pockets, obviously a bit unsure of himself but determined enough to get this done.

Murphy scanned the countless cans, the animal furs that were hanging off the ceiling just like the partially unprocessed meat that had once been animals like opossums, squirrels, rabbits and one small doe. It didn't smell too good in here. The stench of blood and meat was unmistakable, and some of the food didn't smell that fresh anymore either. Definitely not too inviting. But they were obviously making do in here.

Terry, who was wearing an old apron and gloves to keep the whole process somewhat clean, rubbed his nose with a sniff and put away the bunch of plastic wraps he'd been working with just a second ago. He scanned the younger MacManus head to toe once more, then an amused smirk crossed his face.

"You sure about that, Irish?"

Murphy just stared at him.

"Y'need the fuckin help or not?"

Terry snorted and smirked even more.

"Ain't it obvious?"

It was. It certainly looked like there was _enough_ work to do in here.  
Terry finally pointed to Murphy's right.

"Take Tay's old apron. Wash your hands, use sanitizer, make sure yah ain't too dirty. Our cook hates making use of tainted food, and I sure as hell 'm not gonna eat something someone else touched with their dirty mitts. Can't exactly risk infecting this whole town with some crap like a disease or something. Dead people might start walking."

Murphy looked to his right were a small sink was, with a chair and a bucket full of fresh water right next to it. He looked back at Terry for a moment to check out how exactly the other man looked and how he was supposed to get this working, especially since he couldn't remember anything about his previous line of work anymore, and maybe he suddenly regretted his spontaneous decision to take the job now. Terry obviously thought he knew what he was doing, although he totally didn't.

"Come on, ain't got all day! You too stupid to follow simple instructions?" Terry said with a chuckle and got back to work, obviously trying to ease him up but at the same time kind of making fun of him. Murphy knew that he sure looked a bit stupid right now because he was suddenly so hesitant to join after giving a performance like that just seconds earlier, but Terry's chuckling just made him angry again, and certainly a whole lot determined once more.

Fuck everyone who thought he couldn't do shit cos he was 'the little brother' or 'the poor headshot victim' or the 'poor lonely survivor' and 'newbie'. And fuck Connor for not taking him to that council meeting of theirs. Fine, if Connor had a 'job' to do here, then maybe he had to get one himself and make these people trust him on their own. He didn't need fucking Connor and his opinions just because he'd been here a whole lot longer.

He was gonna get shit done on his own.

He headed for the sink to get himself ready.

* * *

„Alright. There's several things we need to talk about today" Hershel opened up the council meeting and had a look around the room.

It was pretty early, but everyone was sitting around the table, eager to get this done. They were meeting up inside the town hall, just like all the other times. Connor had a look around as well and saw all the familiar faces, Hershel, Carol, Glenn, Sasha, Andrea, Michael, Wendy, Daryl. It was a bit weird to be back here, considering that he and Daryl had only just returned to Woodbury a couple of days ago after their odyssey to Augusta and Savannah. He'd had a bit of a crisis before this, just like Daryl. Before Augusta they had kind of hated those meetings, but now he was actually glad to be back.

He was also glad that his mind wasn't driving him crazy like it did with Murphy around. He was back with his group, back in his new life which seemed so much easier now, and he was instantly more relaxed because he didn't have to worry about the simplest shit. He had a look around and smiled at the others, only to fix his eyes on Daryl and smile even more. Daryl was another good thing about this whole meeting. He was happy to see his friend, that they somewhat were on good terms now. Daryl looked back at him for a moment and frowned a little, obviously confused by Connor's behavior. Neither got the chance to do much though, because then Hershel started talking again.

"We've been getting reports about another survivor group. They were seen raiding stores in Sharpsburg. Our runners need to be more careful."

Wendy, one of the survivors from the Governor's time in Woodbury, turned her head to look around the council with a frown.

"They could be friendlies, like the Decatur group, or the man Daryl found yesterday? Maybe we should go locate them, check them out and see if they're willing to trade with us, or even join us. We could use the force after losing Taylor, Barry and his group two weeks ago."

Daryl, who had looked at her at the mention of his name, frowned a bit and looked around the council as well.

"Or they could be hostile. Decatur had kids with 'em. And Bob was all alone when I found 'im. Kinda went without sayin that those're friendlies. But a group of scavengers with probably heavy artillery? Not so much. Ain't the first group of survivors who are out for rivalries and lootin. Chances are, they're just as psycho as all the others."

"Well, you were armed to the teeth when we met your group, and look who's here with us now" Wendy muttered and leaned back with folded arms, once again making it obvious that the little dispute between their group and Woodbury was still not really over. Connor was once again reminded of Terry's words from yesterday night.

 _If it weren't for you_ _none_ _of our people would've died. Certainly not Taylor. You ever notice the division of labor here?_

He wondered if they would ever get over this stupid thing.

Connor could see the look on Daryl's face, saw that his friend was pretty close to putting the woman in place and possibly causing another fight, so he decided to step in. He leaned forward and spoke up.

"Whoever they are, friendly or not, I think we should worry about ourselves first" he said and everyone looked at him.

He made eye contact with Daryl and then looked at Hershel and the others again.

"Wendy's right. Our town's not doing too hot these days. We lost a buncha people, and te herd from two days ago made it obvious that we're not as strong and invincible as we think. Daryl'n I talked about this yesterday night when we took care of another bunch'a walkers. We should try ta work on our defenses first. Make the town safer, think about expanding before we let anyone else in."

He looked at Daryl again and gently kicked his legs under the table to animate him to talk as well.

"So we can be sure we're safe fram both a walker attack as well as a possible survivor attack" he added but Daryl wouldn't say anything.  
Although he was part of the council he was always pretty passive about everything.

"I don't think we should risk an expansion" Sasha spoke up this time. "We could certainly use the space, but it's hard enough to protect and patrol our walls as they are."

"I think both of you are right" Glenn joined in and looked at both Sasha and Connor.

"We should think about expanding and we should consider our weak defenses. So why not reinforce our walls? Not in length but in height?"

Daryl chewed on his lip and nodded.

"Buncha old school busses and some iron sheets ain't gonna last that much longer Takes only one hard pull to rip 'em off" he agreed.

"That doesn't solve the problem with the other group" Carol spoke up and Michael shrugged.

"They were in _Sharpsburg_ , not Woodbury. Ain't no problem if they don't know about us."

"Yet" Connor added and looked at Michael, who frowned a bit but then just shrugged.

"What yah gonna do, Irish. Shoot 'em up?"

Connor snorted and leaned back, but wouldn't say anything. Michael knew about his past, but the Irishman also knew that this wasn't just about his work as a saint, but about the prison shootout as well. The man had been in his freaking crosshairs once. Looking right up at him. But then Connor had shot a walker instead of the guy. This time it was Daryl who spoke up to prevent another discussion about this.

"No, but we should think 'bout putting up some traps and alarms" the hunter said and pointed at the map of Woodbury, the one they kept on the table between them.

"Leprechaun's right. We've been talking 'bout that kinda expansion last night. We found a bunch of good spots t'put up traps for both walkers and other groups. Rick and Michonne told us 'bout this guy back in his old hometown. He did some pretty good stuff. We should do the same thing. Warning signs, ditches, foothold traps, spears and wires. Anything t'keep survivors away and t'keep walkers from forming larger groups that pile up on our walls like the huge herd that was here when we got back."

Connor shifted as well so he could look at the map, too.

"Aye, that's what 've been talking about. We don' even need ta build walls we gotta walk in shifts. Just a buncha those ta keep others from entering the other abandoned buildings, like dividers with ditches. And it could make future expansion attempts easier. Less cleaning ta do. And we should seriously consider an expansion later. There's lotsa useful buildings out there we should occupy. And we should try ta build our way over t'the small lake here so we can think 'bout fishing or even use it as drinking water resource with te right kinda treatment. We could even do some reading and try ta build our own small water works t'create more juice."

Andrea nodded as well and leaned in.

"We certainly need more resources. Water, power. Space. Supplies. That's what I've been trying to say all along. We need to become self-sufficient so we don't have to send our people out on supply runs anymore. They need to cross a larger distance each time because resources are getting scarce around town. I think we can all agree that it's not going to get better. Our people are scared. They feel like they're trapped in a cage. We need to persevere and make life worth living again. And that as pleasant as possible. We need to stop waiting and we need to stop depending on the outside world."

"We could use the lake to water our plants and expand our farming land" Hershel agreed and Connor grinned.

"See, that's what 'm talking about."

"So wait, a minute ago we were talking about the walls and now we're…" Glenn asked with a confused frown and Connor spoke up.

"Aye, the plan is, reinforce the walls, get our town stable enough ta be up and running again, then put up traps, dig some ditches, secure larger portions of the abandoned parta town and then try ta make land further south-west so we can get t'the lakes."

"And how exactly do you plan to do all that? We don't have the resources t…" Wendy asked, but Connor wouldn't let her finish.

"We found a large construction site just off the interstate. 'm sure we can get more than enough building materials there ta reinforce the walls. There's trucks, steel, wood, we could really get this going."

Carol nodded.

"They're right. We can't risk another weak spot. We need to get stronger. We got children in here."

Daryl nodded.

"Hmhm, and the herd I saw a couple of days ago looked pretty serious. 'bout twice as large as the one we've been dealin with before emo kid led those lamebrains away. Whatever we wanna do, gotta do it fast cos that ain't gonna be no picnic. They'd overrun us like our walls are just made of cardboard."

Connor gave him a little angry glare because he didn't like Daryl's nicknames for Murphy, but decided not to say anything because his friend was still right.

Everyone nodded quietly, obviously fearing the same thing. Getting overrun, seeing the herd turn up and pile up on their walls once more.  
Connor looked around once more and decided that maybe this was his chance, since Murphy had been nagging him with it so much by now.

"Speaking of Murph and te guy Daryl brought back with 'im. What're we gonna do about our latest additions? M'brother's eager ta help. And I think we can all agree that te other guy needs ta earn his keep ta stay in here with us as well."

It was quiet for a moment as the council considered this.

"Well, we lost Taylor, Barry and his entire scouting crew to the Fayetteville walkers. Our supply runners and scouts certainly need the…"

"Murph's not gonna join the supply runners. He's not going out there" Connor interrupted Michael and then glared at him, which only earned him an angry glare in return.

"Who else's gonna replace th…"

" _I'm_ back on the supply team. So is Daryl. I'm not gonna discuss this fuckin issue with ye, Michael, cos Murph on the supply runs ain't gonna happen" Connor said almost commanding and bossy, which made the whole never ending discussion worse again.

"So what, you gonna send another bunch of _our_ people out there?"

Hershel picked up on the whole issue as well and looked at Michael and even grabbed his wrist, trying to alleviate the discussion before it got worse.

"You need to understand that there's no 'us' and 'them'. _We_ are going out there. We are looking for volunteers from _our_ town."

Michael snorted and leaned back in his chair as he folded his arms and looked away.

"Yeah, yeah, old man, you keep telling yourself that" he muttered and fell quiet. He obviously didn't really believe it, but at least he was no longer talking about the ever so present "Woodbury and the prison" problem anymore. It was quiet for a moment, then the council finally got back on topic.

"We can't send Bob on those missions. We don't even really know if we can trust the guy yet. Same goes for emo kid. Both of 'em are in pretty bad shape. They were all alone out there before we found 'em, and they look like they're pretty messed up right now."

"Eh" Connor complained and kicked at Daryl, once again angry because his friend was trying to make his brother look like he had a screw loose.  
The hunter ignored him and kept talking.

"We should only take people we can trust and rely on out there" Daryl said, almost calmly and looked at Michael.

"Aye" Connor agreed then and looked around the council.

He knew that if anyone of those people asked Murphy to join a supply runners group, his sibling was so going to be on board. Which he didn't like. Not one bit.

"We could put them on watch duty. Connor's brother kinda saved our lives the other day when he took care of that huge pile up by the wall" Glenn suggested and Sasha nodded.

"We'll take note of their abilities and previous jobs. See what they could help us with. We got plenty of work to do in here."

"What about this group of survivors?" Wendy reminded them and Andrea answered this time.

"We'll deal with them as they come."

The whole council nodded and mumbled as they came to a silent agreement, some more pleased with it than others.

"Alright. We need to assign groups, shifts and schedules to get this thing going" Sasha then said and took a pen and some paper to organize this.

"We need a team of scouts to locate the construction site and make sure the things we need are there. Then we need another group of construction workers to reinforce the walls and check for any weak spots. Michael, you're the man there. Maybe, if we can pull this off, we can even think about forming a third group we send out to build traps and secure the land close to our part of town."

"'m gonna go, hit the road. See if I can find enough material for those traps" Daryl spoke up, since he was the expert tracker and hunter after all and considered it his job.

Connor wanted to speak up and tell his friend that he was going to join him because they were a team after all, but then Glenn suddenly talked and mentioned him.

"I'm gonna join Connor and maybe one or two people. Go back to the interstate and check the place out before we send any more of our people out there to retrieve the material."

He supposed that Glenn was right. Either he or Daryl needed to lead those people to the construction site since they had been the ones to find it, and he also agreed that Glenn was good enough to be the runner and that he was 'invincible' enough to go out there with him, but he still didn't like the fact that he and Daryl were supposed to split up.

"I'm gonna try to find a bunch of people I can take out to secure town around our walls" Wendy jumped right in and the others nodded in approval.

"Guess I'm in charge of everything inside then. I'm going to hold a community meeting here. Later today. Tell our people about or plans, collect ideas, maybe have a vote or two and form groups" Andrea offered.

Connor looked at his friend and tried to make eye contact, hoping he could get him into joining his run. Daryl did look back at him but didn't really seem to get it, and he was pretty keen to stop the looking at each other as quickly as possible. He even looked down and stared at the map instead. Connor wanted to snort, but decided not to do or say anything. It was more than obvious that his friend was pretty embarrassed and that certainly because of last night. The Irishman knew the hunter well enough by now to read the right things into his behavior. Daryl didn't want to look at him or interact with him too much today because he obviously feared that the others could pick up on it, like they could see right through them and know about what had happened last night.

As if.

Connor looked around the council.

No one was even looking, and if someone caught a glimpse of them or looked at them they looked like they didn't have a fucking clue. Daryl's behavior was ridiculous, really, but he was used to it by now. He also knew that his friend didn't really mean it. But he was still doing it, pretty much ignoring him and treating him like all the others, like nothing had happened.

The others had spent the past couple of minutes trying to organize their latest tasks, come up with groups, working schedules, plans and routes, and Connor soon was too busy making plans with them, so he couldn't really ponder on his and Daryl's fucked up friendship any longer anyway. He was so into it all that he did not notice how his friend was watching him more and more, _especially_ now that he wasn't looking and now that the others were busy listening to the Irishman as well.

Back in the old days Daryl would've hated him for this. Making the others, _his_ group, listen to him, absorbing their attention, making them look to him for guidance. Back on the farm he would've been jealous of Connor, called this an act of stealing his people from him, especially since he just couldn't do stuff like that. Make plans, become integrated and make people listen to him. He wasn't a leader, didn't consider himself capable and worthy enough to really participate here. Back in the old days he'd been angry with Connor and jealous of him because he was the exact opposite of him, but now he no longer minded it one bit.

He actually liked it a lot, that his friend had become such a big part of his group, that he really was a part of their family now, after so many months of struggling and fighting. Connor didn't look pissed, angry or uber-annoying anymore. He looked very alive whenever he did that. Planning. Organizing. Leading. It was obviously his thing. It even made the hunter smile a tiny bit and he hated to admit it: but he liked this Connor the most.

Because whenever he was busy planning stuff out or whenever he was teaching people and explaining things to them one could actually see that he wasn't –really- such an immature clown. There were no jokes, no pranks, no stupid cocky grin on his face. His friend was busy, serious, mature, spirited. Now he was even able to speak to Michael again, and that in a mature and giving manner.

A lot of times Daryl just had to think back, because even now he still couldn't really let go of the old times. Especially now that this Murphy guy was back and he really wanted to go back to the old times when it had been just him and Connor. But old Connor had been so much different compared to the one who was sitting opposite him now. The guy was life itself, part of a thriving community. Smart. Intelligent. Capable. Likable.

Connor leaned forward a bit to point at a spot on the map, oblivious to the fact that he was being watched, and then Daryl could suddenly see it.

A bandaid, the size of his palm, covering the junction of the blonde's neck and shoulder.

Daryl immediately stopped smiling. He tensed and formed his hand to a tight fist under the table, on his thigh, remembering _exactly_ what this one was covering up. That was _his_ mark. He had a quick look around and scanned all the faces around the table, but no one seemed to pay that much attention to that one detail on Connor, but to him it looked like a big fat red warning sign. Like a massive stamp, left on the Irishman's neck. It was still a vivid memory, the grinding of hips, the touch, the hot breath and sweaty necks and hands and then the sudden urge to bite and let go, then….

_Fuck._

He quickly looked away and tried to fix his eyes on something or someone else.

Everyone was looking at the map so he tried to act normal and look at the map as well, but of course, Connor's hands were there, pointing and moving along the line of a road, the stupid hand with the _Veritas_ tattoo, just another reminder that….

 _**Shit.** _ _That hand had been wrapped around his fucking dick just a couple of hours ago._

He squirmed in his chair and frowned. Now he was just angry with himself. It was pathetic, really. Connor was his _friend_. His best friend. The guy meant the fucking world to him because they had been through so much. He didn't just consider him his best friend, he was his hunting and scouting partner. They were a _team_ , a unit. This whole town considered them a package deal by now. The violent part inside of him even considered the guy his _property_ and he'd certainly marked that.

And here he was now, squirming like a fucking teenager, unable to look at the guy, unable to talk to him, pretending that they didn't even like each other that much and that he didn't want to be on a team with him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He hated this change, because it was so unlike him, so unlike them. This sudden train of thoughts, the sudden hunger for not just violence and fights, but more, he tried to fight it but….

_But fuck it, it had happened anyway._

Now that he thought about it, it really was no surprise. Connor was a manipulative, selfish asshole who knew _exactly_ how to play his charm card right. This was how he had managed to trick him into liking him right from day one, this was how he was doing it now. This was how he was doing it to Michael as well. Just a minute ago the two of them had been pretty much arguing, angry sparks and all, but now Connor had gotten the guy back into properly discussing and planning with him, wrapped around his little finger. It was no surprise that he would manage to put even _him_ under his spell. And he was getting better at this bullshit each day.

What a _fucking bastard_.

Daryl looked around in surprise when Andrea, Wendy, Michael and Glenn suddenly got up and headed for the door, leaving only him, Connor, Hershel, Sasha and Carol to sit around the table.

And maybe this was his cue.

He got up as well, pretty eager to turn around so he didn't really have to look at his friend right now when he was having trouble keeping certain fucking thoughts out of his mind. From the corner of his eye he could see that Connor was suddenly looking at him and trying to get up as well to follow him and probably ask what the fuck was up with him again, but then Carol suddenly grabbed the Irishman's arm to stop him so she could talk to him.

Daryl really wanted his friend to follow him so they could talk in private and so he could call this stupid new thing of theirs off because this getting was so ridiculous, but he was also glad that Connor didn't get the chance to come after him. He seriously just needed to cool off and get his head straight right now. He really needed to teach his primitive teeny brain to separate business and friendship from their weird new late night drunk activities. He mumbled something about leaving to go find some trapping material and then exited the room.

Connor had noticed Daryl's changed behavior right from the off, and truth be told, he was a bit pissed, actually. First Murphy, then Daryl. Of fucking course. He tried to concentrate on their latest plans for Woodbury, tried to keep talking to Hershel, Glenn and Sasha, but he could still see Daryl from the corner of his eye. The pissed look on the hunter's face, the gritted teeth, the clenched fists. It was beyond obvious that Daryl was fighting another fit of rage, he was probably pissed at him again and living through vivid ideas of violence and fights for god knows what reason.

It was beyond ridiculous really. The whole thing with Daryl. Take one step forward and of course Daryl has to take ten steps backwards again, stubborn asshole that he was. Just for once did he want to enjoy a normal fucking morning with his friend after shit like the thing that had happened yesterday night. Fuck it, he'd pretend that nothing had happened, and that gladly, as long as they could go back to relaxed conversations, shared plans, schedules and tasks. Because really, they hadn't even spoken that much this morning yet.

But of course, fucking Daryl. Pretty much fucking him the night before, only to ignore his very existence a couple of hours later.

Connor got a bit angry as well and maybe he tensed his hands and fingers on the map, trying to control his anger, irritation and frustration. The truth was that he was far better at hiding it in front of people than Daryl, especially when he was busy talking to them. Which was exactly what he was trying to keep doing right now, and he soon managed to really ignore Daryl's sudden mood swings.

He set up the plan for their first scouting mission to the construction site. He mentioned the people he wanted to have on his team (of course he wanted Daryl to be on his team, but the guy had made it obvious that he didn't want to come and be near him right now, so fuck him). He wanted Glenn, Michonne and Sasha instead, his usual group of the sneakiest and most agile people, so the stronger fighters could stay with the abandoned Woodbury scouting mission.

The whole plan was set pretty quickly, which he certainly liked. Yesterday he and Daryl had just been talking about this, and now they were already trying to get it moving. Which wasn't too surprising though, considering that they didn't have much else to do and since there was a possible herd and another group of survivors close by.

The construction site team was supposed to leave today, right after lunch, so they were well fed and could be back before sunset. It was supposed to be a short trip only. It wasn't far, and they just wanted to make sure that the site wasn't overrun with walkers or people. They also wanted to go look what kind of material was there for them to use. He was totally up for it now. Excited even, as he looked at the map and the bunch of scribblings Sasha had worked on.

Glenn apologized and said that he had to leave early because of Maggie, and Andrea, Wendy and Michael left as well to recruit more people for the repairs and stabilization works on their walls. It was all good and set and pretty much done. Except that Daryl suddenly left with the others. Not even looking at him, not agreeing on some meeting point or shared mission for later, he wouldn't even really say goodbye. And Connor's mood instantly dropped again.

What a _fucking bastard_.

He snorted and tried not to be huffy, except he totally was. He honestly didn't get this shit. It felt like they all had a fucking agenda against him. Yesterday night had been pretty fucking brilliant, and that through and through. Shared night watch shift, easygoing friendship talk, a little competition, some walker killing action and later, the more hairy shit. They had left on a good note after that. No fighting. No denying. Even stating that they were both doing good. _And now fucking this? What the fuck?_

No wonder people considered fucking a guy as something gross and forbidden. If all guys acted like that after fucking – and by that he meant worse than freaking women with their mood swings – then he considered it no real surprise that so many despised this kind of stuff. Not that he'd ever think about any other dudes in relation to that topic. Yikes.

He even shivered a bit, a few unwanted images still playing in his head and making him shiver and twitch in disgust. Maybe that was a good thing, actually. That he still reacted to the this kind of topic like that. Yep, he was totally manly again. No need to question his sexuality because of yesterday. Fucking guys was still gross and an atrocity.

He shook his head and cleared his mind. Daryl was on his way out, and he still wanted to talk to him. Clear things up a bit. Everything was set and he wanted to leave anyway, so maybe…He got up to go after Daryl, curious what this whole thing had really been about, but then he suddenly felt a hand on his arm and looked to his right.

Carol was looking up at him, gently gripping his lower arm to keep him in place.

"Connor, wait" she requested and the Irishman fixed his eyes on her for a second, only to look back at the door. He only caught a tiny glimpse of angel wings on a leather jacket, then they were gone. Daryl had left without him, and he was pretty sure that it wouldn't take his friend too long to leave town.

Connor let out a gentle sigh and relaxed.

 _Fine, whatever,_ he thought grumpily and finally looked at Carol, giving her his full attention since this was probably about one of their missions they had planned out today.

"Can we talk?" she asked and then had a quick look around the council, where only Sasha and Hershel were still talking about something. Other people from Woodbury were already entering the building, now that the council meeting was officially over and the place was back open for its service as temporary church and meeting point with all the schedules, maps and plans.

Carol looked at Connor again.

"Alone?"

The Irishman let out a gentle sigh, since he knew what this was about and where this was going. He rubbed his forehead and looked at the door once more, kind of hoping that maybe Daryl'd come back, be all chill again and save him from this dilemma but of course, there was no Daryl, there was no one but a bunch of people walking in and out.

"Aye. Where'd ye wanna go?"

"The library" Carol stated as she got up and put her knife back in her belt.

Connor waited for her to get ready in the meantime. The woman looked at Sasha and Hershel for a moment and then fixed her eyes on the later.

"I'll be right back. We'll meet up at the general water supply to discuss this?" she stated, referring to something she and the old man had obviously talked about earlier.

"Yes. I'll be there in ten minutes. I just need to check on Bethy first."

Carol nodded and then gently nudged Connor's back to animate him to follow her.

* * *

They were on their way out and heading for the library. Connor had a worried and confused look around, looking for both his brother and friend.

He eventually spotted Daryl, who was working on his motorbike in front of his apartment block, obviously getting ready to head out and look for more hunting material. Connor slowed down and rubbed his chin, contemplating whether he should go to his friend and talk or finish the thing with Carol first. He knew that it didn't take too long and his friend would be gone, and he really didn't want to start his fucking day like this again. He wanted to freaking talk to the guy, be on good terms again and get over this whole crap.

He was only seconds away from asking Carol to wait so he could walk over to Daryl when he suddenly saw Murphy walk outside the supply building, wearing a bloody apron and lighting a cigarette by the door. But this whole blood and apron thing wasn't even the worst part about it all. No. Terry was standing right next to his brother, smoking with him, chatting, wearing the same bloody apron.

What the fuck.

He'd been looking for them both, Daryl and Murphy, and now he had them both, except that he didn't like any of this shit. He didn't even know who to go first except that Daryl made it totally easy for him once again, because he suddenly stepped away from his bike as Rick approached him to talk to him anyway, buying him some time to deal with the Murphy issue, because his blood was boiling by now.

"Wait" he said to Carol and then looked at her for a moment. "I just gotta talk t'my brother real quick. I'm gonna meet ye at the library in a sec, aye?"

The woman turned around and looked at him, only to fix her eyes on Murphy as well.

"Sure" she then said and started walking on her own, in the general direction of the library but also heading for Daryl and Rick.

"Fucking hell" Connor complained as he quickly headed for the supply storage, where his brother was still having a smoke break.

He couldn't believe this shit. Terry, the guy who had kind of freaking _threatened_ him yesterday evening, was really talking to his _brother_ now. Even smiling, that fucking bastard. He saw right through this shit. Whatever the guy was up to, it just –had- to be something nasty. He even jogged a bit, down main street, eager to get to his twin as quickly as possible. He stopped the running pace shortly before getting there because he knew that he was going to piss off Murphy otherwise and didn't want to do that. He was going to deal with it somehow without making his brother think he was some uber-protective chick of him, but he was still going to deal with it and stop the _fucker_ from talking to Murphy.

"Murph" he greeted his sibling and instantly put his fake smile on, getting closer to them and trying to act normal.

Murphy turned his head in surprise and looked a bit like a rabbit caught in headlines, like he already knew he wasn't supposed to do this shit.

"Terry" Connor greeted the man although his voice was strained from trying to put up an act for his sibling. Terry seemed to be doing just the same, even fucking smiling at him, which was so fake Connor could see it half a mile away. Because people who had just punched someone right in the face a couple of days ago wouldn't be smiling at them like that the next day. But they both kept up the act for Murphy, obviously for different reasons. Fucked up reasons on Terry's part, Connor was sure of it, which was why he narrowed his eyes a tiny bit at the other man, making it clear. _I'm fucking watching you._

"Irish" Terry greeted him back, but Connor ignored him and then fixed his eyes on his brother instead.

"What'cha doing here, then, huh? And what are ye wearing those clothes fer?" he asked with a gentle laugh, secretly wanting to sound his brother out. Murphy took a lazy drag on his cigarette and shrugged.

"Told ye I was bored and wanna help. And since ye wouldn't let me in on yer council meetings I figured I should take care of it on me own. Terry offered me the job, so I took it."

"Yeah, and the kid's not so bad at it. Ain't gonna replace the work of a real butcher like my brother was, but hey, at least I could do about twice as much work in just an hour. Second hand's always good."

Connor just stared at Terry, still keeping the fake smile up for Murphy although his blood was running cold. Of course this fucker had to bring up his brother Taylor when he was here, of course he constantly had to remind him of the brother he had lost because of his and Daryl's fuck up.

Of course.

"Aye, helpin' hand's always good. Speaking of which, ye got a minute, Murph?"

Murphy took another drag on his cigarette and shrugged once more, instantly following him.

"Don't forget 'bout those squirrels!" Terry instantly shouted after them, but Connor only walked faster, trying to lead his twin away from the guy.  
He just didn't trust the fucker.

"Aye, told ye we're gonna deal with those after our smoke break!" Murphy even excused himself, way too relaxed and even a bit freaking excited, and Connor finally stopped putting up an act. "I don't want ye ta be near te guy" he said and stopped walking in the middle of the street to turn around and look at both Murphy and then Terry in the distance, who was still watching them, smoke in his mouth, leaned against the door, even smiling a bit.

Murphy snorted and looked at him in disbelief.

"Fuckin what? Are ye fer fucking _real_ right now?" he asked with an angry frown.

Connor gave Terry another angry glare.

"I just don' trust him, that's all."

Murphy laughed once, turned around to look at Terry who was just standing there, the guy he'd had a pretty nice and easy chat with earlier, the guy who'd given him something to do, something to make him feel useful, some stranger who treated him like a fucking adult for once.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, ye don't trust anyone 'round me fer fuck's sake! This is ridiculous!" Murphy complained and even shoved Connor a bit, because his _stupid_ brother seriously couldn't be fucking real right now. Just yesterday he had promised him to stop the whole locking him up bullshit and the crazy worrying about him, and maybe he was no longer keeping him locked up there in this stupid house, but he was still trying to keep him from fucking everything.

It was really unbelievable, and it suddenly felt like a kidnapping again. Here fucking Connor was, with his stupid fucking redneck lookalike just down the street, the two people who had dragged him here, forced him to be with the man who had shot him in his fucking head, forced him to stay in this stupid town all day, refused to let him go get his people from Savannah here, forbid him to do practically everything, like Connor could seriously fucking decide over him although he was 30something years old. The guy really thought he had him by his balls and Murphy felt like they were getting cut off by that, it made him angry, it made him feel like this was a _joke_.

"It's not about that" Connor said calmly, trying to keep Murphy from having another fit of rage over that, and before his sibling got to respond he already talked again. "I swear ta fuckin god, this honestly isn't about me wanting ta go fuckin mother on you. Do anything ye want here, I mean it, just don't be working with tha guy."

"And why the fuck not, hm?"

"Cos I put his brother down fer fuck's sake!" Connor hissed and glared at Murphy.

"Te fucker punched me in the face over this, and he kinda tried ta fuckin threaten me last night if it hadn't been fer Tyreese walking in."

"And just cos yer makin a fuckin habbit outta that _I_ can't work with the guy? What's that got ta do with me? I didn't do shit t'him or his fuckin brother! Maybe this is me trying ta set things straight fer you dickhead?"

"He lost his fuckin brother and now he's asking _my_ fuckin brother fer help. Outta all people in this town, people he knows way longer than us, he's asking _you_ fer help. Don't ye think this is a little strange?" Connor asked with an angry frown and fixed his eyes on Terry, who was already walking towards them, now that he had obviously picked up on the fact that they were arguing over him and his work.

"No, the only thing I think is _a little strange_ is you actin like a fuckin psycho whenever anything's about fuckin me" Murphy snapped back. Connor really wanted to say something to that, tried to make his sibling understand that this honestly wasn't about him trying to wrap him back up in cotton wool and possibly suffocate him while doing that. He honestly just didn't like this whole thing, _just_ that, he was fine with everything else Murphy wanted to do. But he couldn't express those thoughts because Terry suddenly joined them and spoke up.

"Hey come on, man. I get that you and I ain't exactly on good terms right now, but I really just need a hand after losin Tay and your brother's just trying t'make an honest living here. We need the manpower t'keep this town going, and your bro's …"

Connor walked right up to him and glared at the man, fury suddenly very present and taking hold of him.

"Don't think I don't see right through yer bullshit" he hissed until he was really close to the guy. "You say ye see right through me and my group? Well I see right through you, boy. Don't think I don't get ye wanna try and give me a taste of my own medicine, eye for an eye, brother fer brother, and I say _fucking try me._ You touch a hair on his head I will fucking _kill_ you."

Terry just snorted and put both his hands in the air.

"Hey man, chill. Just like I said. Just need a helping hand. Daryl talked 'bout you guys being meatpackers, don't wanna work with you guy, figured your bro might as well do it. And he's done fine by me, but if you think…"

"He doesn't even _remember_ shit 'bout packing meat!"

"Oh fuck you, 'f course I know shit about packing fucking meat, 'm no retard!" Murphy suddenly snapped behind him them and Connor turned around to look at his sibling.  
The younger MacManus walked up to his brother and glared at him.

"Ye don't think this is gonna work out but yer okay with me doing anything other than that? Fine. How about I join the next supply run?"

Connor snorted.

"Don' play this fuckin card on me now."

"Oh, of course I can't do that as well, cos 'too dangerous' right? Well, what 'bout tha council of yers? Daryl's on it, you are, can't be too hard t'get me on this as well considering 'm _yer_ fucking _brother_."

"We just talked about that less than an hour ago! Yer gonna be on the council soon enough, 'm gonna drag ye along anyway!"

"Fine, and how 'bout I help tha group over there, hm?" Murphy asked and pointed at Wendy and the small group she had gathered to check out the surrounding area.

"That is a fucking scouting crew. They're going outside. Same thing."

Murphy snorted and shook his head.  
He put his cigarette back in his mouth and started walking back towards the supply storage, where Terry was waiting by the door.

"Fuck you, Connor" he just said and walked right past his brother.

"Murph.." Connor whined and turned around as he tried to stop his sibling.

"What 'bout Rick then, hm? Ye were getting along pretty well yesterday, didn't ye? I also spoke t'the council, they want ye ta be on the patrols and watch duties and shit."

"Ye know what?" Murphy said and turned around once more. "I might be doing just that and guess what, I don't need yer fuckin permission t'do anything."

He then turned around again and walked back to Terry, muttering something about squirrels that were waiting for him to be processed.

Connor stood in the middle of the street, completely dumfounded by what had just happened. Old Murphy had never backfired on him like that before, and he'd certainly and always been following his plans and instructions. But not this.

_Fuck._

He rubbed his mouth and watched his sibling go back inside with Terry, discomfort growing even more. Connor let out a low sigh and placed two fingers on the bridge of his nose with closed eyes. His heart was pounding, he was slowly freaking out, and he needed a second to calm down. This was the second time now that Murphy had called him a fucking psycho.

 _What if he was right?_ He knew what this looked like. It was a fucking mess, but he didn't trust people these days. He didn't like giving people second chances. Last time he hadn't acted on his instincts with the prisoner problem Lori and T-Dog had died. Indirectly murdered by one of those prison scumbags.

This could be totally it again. Bloody murder and all.

But what if it wasn't?

He opened his eyes again and looked at the door to the supply storage once more. _What if he was really just freaking out over nothing?_ Murphy had told him multiple times now that he could take care of himself. He knew that, but he still couldn't stop the freaking out thing. Maybe he just wasn't used to the 'big brother' role anymore. Maybe he was having a crisis. Maybe he really just needed to let Murphy do his thing until his other half landed on his ass after doing something wrong. But exactly this was so fucking risky. _What if letting him do shit on his own and letting him do wrong things would end with Murphy getting injured or killed?_

Then it would be his fault again, because then he would've failed to look out for his own brother.

Maybe Terry was right, though? Maybe he just needed another hand. Fuck, maybe he even just needed a temporary replacement brother after his loss. He'd been there once, too.

Maybe he just needed to fucking chill.

"You alright?"

Connor startled violently and looked up.

"Jesus" he gasped and turned around, only to face Daryl.

He was happy to see his friend right now, real fucking happy, but he also needed to calm down.

"What? Aye. Aye. Doing good. You?" he mumbled and started walking to head for the library.

Daryl followed him but turned around once more to look at the supply storage.

"What was that 'bout?"

"Nothing. Doesn' matter."

"Hey" Daryl demanded and suddenly grabbed Connor by his arm to stop him from walking.

"Don't give me that crap. Your mope face ain't saying 'nothing' t'me."

Connor let out a frustrated sigh.

"'s just fuckin Terry, alright."

Daryl turned around once more to look at the place Terry worked in.

"He'll get over it."

"Yeah. Just like I said. 's nothing" Connor growled and then had a look around. "You seen Carol? She wanted ta talk t'me."

Daryl adjusted his crossbow and chewed on his lower lip. He wanted to talk to his friend as well but didn't really know how to start the topic since he still felt a bit awkward around the guy after yesterday.

"Hmhm. Said she was gonna go t'the library, wait for yah there."

"Good. Thanks fer the info. See ye later, aye?" Connor mumbled and nudged Daryl's belly only to turn around so he could head for the library.  
He wanted to get his mind off things for a moment, and he really just wanted to be alone and not see Murphy or Daryl because he looked like him.

"Hey leprechaun" Daryl suddenly called after him, though, disappointed that his friend didn't want to annoy him with his endless talk for once.

Connor turned around again.

"When you leaving for the interstate?" Daryl finally asked, giving in after all his previous trying to ignore that his friend had been asking him to come with those stupid looks.

Connor smirked a bit, suddenly remembering that he had wanted to talk to Daryl about that anyway.

"Why, ye wanna come?"

Daryl shrugged.

"Someone's gotta be in charge of the whole thing. Guys like you'd just get yahselves killed out there without me."

Connor snorted and finally gave his friend a full smirk.

"Fuck ye, you know 'm better out there than you are."

Daryl huffed.

"Yah wish."

Connor walked back a bit.

"After lunch. Maybe in a couple 'a hours. Andrea and the others are still trying t'get this thing organized. And 'm kinda busy right now anyway, people gotta wait."

Daryl nodded and shrugged.

"Yeah, gotta go, head for Peachtree first anyway."

Connor grinned.

"Well then hurry th'fuck up."

There was a bit of a pause between them, as Connor waited for his friend to say something but Daryl couldn't really come up with anything to say. He wanted to say many things, know many things. Like, he knew that there was something more to the whole Terry topic. He'd seen the three of them discuss something rather heatedly. He wanted to know what the whole thing had been about, if he needed to punch something in their fucking face, or why the hell his friend was so fucking moody all of a sudden.

This had been the main reason why he'd finally decided to go talk to him instead of leaving town to get the hell away after yesterday night. He'd also given in to his wish to leave with the construction scouting crew because he and Connor –were- a fucking team and he liked going and killing walkers with his friend, which was why he had finally asked him that as well. He also kind of wanted to talk about yesterday, talk about many ridiculous things but he'd never been a talker, never knew how to express something, and he also still thought that men weren't supposed to talk about shit anyway.

So he remained silent.

But Connor talked.

"Y'want me ta come along look fer trapping material together?"

_Of course, you asshole._

"No. 'm good. You'd just slow me down anyway. You ain't got no clue what yah gotta look for."

The Irishman huffed.

"Fuck you."

Connor then noticed Carol by the library building. She was obviously still waiting for him, since he'd told her it would only take him 'a second'.  
 _Shit, couldn't people leave him alone for once?_

"Anyway, gotta go real quick. See ye later, think the group's meeting up by the parking lot in fronta town hall later" Connor said and prepared himself to leave.

"Yeah, see yah later, leprechaun" Daryl muttered and walked past his friend, even daring to put a quick hand on his belly to nudge him back.

He then quickly headed for his motorbike, eager to get away, pretending that it had been no biggie to him, although it totally had been.


	15. Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all here: sorry that there's a lack of the Connaryl. But I've been looking forward to this chapter and writing more Daryl/Murphy, which is exactly what I did in this chapter. I wanna move their relationship forward as well, and I'm gonna write more of them later. I just wanted this out of the bag of ideas. And it's also once again pretty much build up for later chapters. Don't think I have abandoned the Connaryl ship and the shippy. You're going to get more of that either at the end of the next chapter or at the beginning of the one after that. But there's most definitely going to be more Connaryl action in the next chapter, another run, less drama, and the resolution of the Conphy 'Connor is always keeping me from everything and locking me up' drama.
> 
> And some more news: I'm going to go back on the season 4 track really soon. You already see some of it in this chapter, and there will be loads more (yes, the flu storyline, I can't wait to write this one! *evil grin*) So as far as angst and stuff like that goes, it's far from over :D So just so you know: we're getting close to the ending of episode one in my story now. Also, I hope you catch the other episode reference, I did some shifting again ;)

Murphy hacked away on the meat, maybe a bit more brutal than necessary. He was pissed at Connor for going batshit crazy on him, hated how his sibling just –couldn't- stop that whole 'protecting' bullshit. He skinned the squirrel the way Terry had shown him, and maybe it was the right kind of work to do right now, considering how fucking _angry_ he was.

It wasn't like he didn't get it. Yeah, yeah, he had almost died, Connor had almost lost him once, he was a bit handicapped, blah blah, but that still didn't mean he was some fucking baby who had to be protected from fucking _everything_. He could watch his own ass just fine. And he thought that he could read people good enough.

Okay, maybe Connor made him think now. Just a little bit of course. Maybe it was a bit weird, the whole thing with Terry. His twin kind of had a point. The guy knew enough people around here, sure had friends around to help him, and yet he had chosen him to help out. He, who was Connor's brother.

He remembered his sibling's words. _Taste of his own medicine. Eye for an eye. Brother for brother._  
  
But…

Fuck it.

This had to be bullshit. Connor was nuts. He didn't even really know Terry. Maybe the guy just wanted a friend after losing his brother and probably best friend. Maybe he wanted a new face in here, someone fresh, someone who wouldn't nag him with countless words of comfort and trying to make him talk about Tay. And fuck it, maybe the guy even pitied him and really just wanted to give him some work to do.

But still. Connor was right. Maybe it was a _bit_ weird.

Murphy threw the unused bits of the squirrel in the bucket and turned his head with a sniff to take a closer look at Terry. The man was still busy with the doe, splitting it in halves, cutting it to eatable pieces, taking out the organs, sorting what was eatable and what not. There was a lot of blood on his hands and on the table, just like on the large knives and the saw he used to get his work done.

It could be _really_ fucking weird. If Connor was right then god knows what sort of fucked up revenge the guy had planned for him. He was a freaking butcher after all. Probably mourning and depressed although Murphy really couldn't see it.

The younger MacManus pressed his lips together and frowned.

Fuck it.

No matter who was speaking the truth, Terry or Connor, he could fucking handle them both. Should the guy try to attack him, he was gonna deal with it, he'd gotten pretty good at surviving the most impossible and dangerous shit (bite and headshot, helloooo). And if Terry was honest and didn't have some fucked up agenda against Connor using him, then he was also gonna deal with him, too.

"Your bro's a real piece of work huh?" Terry suddenly asked and Murphy snorted.

"Aye."

There was a small pause as Terry got rid of a particularly stubborn bone.

"You the younger brother?"

Murphy shrugged and got back to work as well.

"Well…we're fraternal twins. He keeps tellin me he's older, but I'm slowly not even buying tha anymore."

Terry chuckled.

"He certainly wants t'take the big bro role to a whole new level."

The Irishman sighed.

"He thinks he owes me. Guess te fucker's just scareda losin me again" Murphy admitted.

Of course he could understand his brother. More or less. Just like him he was actually and slowly starting to become more and more scared of the possibility of having to live in this world all alone. Just like Connor he didn't want to lose his brother anymore, his family. He knew that –everyone- was scared of losing their loved ones. That was just natural and he couldn't blame anyone for that.

He knew how much it hurt to lose someone. He'd felt that kind of loss back in Augusta, the day Keith had died. And deep deep down he'd always felt that loss ever since he'd woken up alone in Boston, he'd just never been able to understand it, considering that he still couldn't really remember his deep connection with his twin. Even he had to admit that it was still there and crawling its way back into his life, though. But even with all that understanding he still had to agree with Terry. Connor took the whole thing to a whole new level.

"Heard he was the one who put that scar on yah head, that right?" the other man even asked, and Murphy turned around in surprise. He was a bit shocked to be honest, how the guy could really just ask him like that, pretty insensitive and straight forward. The younger MacManus immediately rubbed his forehead and tried to hide it with an angry frown.

"Makin quite a habit outta that, your bro. Shootin people up.." Terry even went on with a shrug, and for a second Murphy actually wanted to believe what Connor had said earlier.

"He didn' have a fuckin choice" Murphy snapped angrily, although he tried to hide it. But he still felt the sudden need to protect his brother, especially since he didn't want to make the thing between him and Terry worse. He was here to work, to have a job, to feel useful and make up for the thing Connor had done. He also understood it now. Both times it hadn't even been Connor's fault. Walkers had bit him and Taylor, they both had been about to turn, or so he'd thought. He'd just been trying to help, to put them out of their misery.

"Why, cos you got bit?"

There was a long, awkward pause after that. Murphy stopped working and stared at Terry, still in utter disbelief. He couldn't believe how quickly the mood had changed, and he couldn't believe that Terry even knew about this. Or did he?

"What?"

Terry finally turned around to look at him and pointed at him with the bloody knife.

"I saw you. Two days ago, when the wall nearly gave in? Me n'a buncha others saw yah dive right into this mess without a scratch. When they didn't attack you? Also noticed the scar on your shoulder and how yah always holdin that arm in that strange angle. Add a scar from an attempted headshot t'the mix, and yah get the picture. Ain't too hard to figure out, really."

Murphy swallowed hard and looked around, trying to check if anyone else was here.

"People aren't sapposed t'know" he said dryly, because Terry was pretty much right. It was pretty easy to figure out, and there was no denying that others had seen him fight the walkers in front of the wall. Terry let out a gentle laugh.

"Oh trust me Irish. Lotsa people know 'round here. Just like I said, ain't that hard t'figure out. So, he do it? Shoot you?"

Murphy snorted and turned around.

"What, so is this really 'bout the shit with yer bro? Ye wanna try n'rile me up against Connor now, hm? Is tha why ye want me t'work here? So ye can talk shit and shrink me head? Ye wanna go out there 'n tell everyone about the bite now and make 'em go crazy on us? Tha it? T'make Connor pay fer shooting yer brother? He's fuckin sorry, alright? Why do all ye people always have t bear such a fucking grudge and be all fucking shady?" he asked angrily because he was fed up with the whole talk. He hated how Terry suddenly wouldn't stop nagging him with the freaking headshot.

Much to his surprise the other man wouldn't reveal his great big, evil agenda. He just looked at Murphy for a while.

"Relax, kid. 'm just curious" the man said calmly and then sighed. He folded his arms and sat down on the table.

"Yeah of course 'm furious with your bro. In fact I would like t'take these knives right here and cut the fucker a second ass crack for just killin my brother insteada bringing him here, tryin t'fix him or at least given me the goddamn _chance_ t'say goodbye. But I get it. Tay was lost, he wasn't gonna make it, shit happens. All I asked for was being the one t'do it. T'end it for my own brother. Yah know what the difference between me and other Irish is?" he asked, knife still in his hand, and Murphy just shrugged with an angry frown.

"Me and Tay, we were raised right. We respect brotherhood, family, blood. Praised it t'the high heavens in fact. So no, I ain't pathetic like that _Connor_ of yours and I ain't gonna just go and take bros away from others."

And yet again there was a pause, as Terry waited for Murphy to say something but the latter wouldn't say anything.

"No, what I wanna know, though, and why I offered yah this job..is to find out how you can still be alive after getting bit and shot, just like Tay. I wanna know, what makes yah special, cos I ain't ever seen anything like it, and that makes me a whole lotta curious, Irish. Just like anyone else in this town, really"

"Well good luck finding that out, cos I don't have a fuckin clue either" Murphy growled back and finally relaxed a bit. The whole thing was still pretty unpleasant, but at least it really sounded like Connor wasn't right about the whole thing. Murphy certainly didn't like that some stranger knew about his immunity, some stranger he didn't really know if he could trust him, but at least it didn't look like he was about to get fucking stabbed or murdered to avenge some other brother's death.

"'m gonna go, have a fuckin smoke" he muttered because he was still pretty much fed up with the whole thing and needed a break. He certainly didn't need that shit. Not after Boston. Not after Augusta. He just wanted some friends, something to do, a job. No drama. He also wanted to use this opportunity to talk to Connor, to make it clear that he wasn't going to listen to whatever the fuck he had to say anymore because he couldn't believe that his sibling had successfully managed to make him just as fucking paranoid.

* * *

He couldn't find Connor anywhere. He'd kind of left him here, in the middle of the street, after their little 'discussion' and now he was gone. There were countless people walking around town by now, all awake and busy. They all had jobs to do, places to go, just like Connor, Murphy assumed. At first he thought that his brother surely had gone to be with stupid Daryl again, the guy with his face who obviously didn't annoy him as much as his 'little twin brother'.

Murphy looked around some more but was suddenly surprised to see that no, Connor wasn't with the hunter either because Daryl was right there, by the parking lot, with a small backpack, crossbow and working on his bike, as he was obviously getting ready to head out. Murphy started walking and looked around for the final time, hoping that maybe he was going to find Connor before having to do this, but his brother really was nowhere in sight.

_Great._

_So he had to talk to the fucking redneck._

The younger MacManus rolled his eyes with an angry growl and approached the other man.

Even now it still freaked him out. The crazy resemblance, the face stealing, the complete rip off. And just like the many, many times before he wanted to do nothing more than grab the guy by his collar, look down on him and tell him to at least dress fucking decent, if he really had to run around with his face. _Because really. Who on earth wore shirts with ripped off sleeves? Who the fuck'd wear angel wings on their vest? And who the fuck would run around with a haircut like that? People who had his face weren't allowed to run away like that!_ Disfiguring it, making uglier than it really was…fuck. It wasn't just stupid, it was beyond fucking freaky.

Murphy still hated to talk to the guy, but he figured that Daryl was the only one who always seemed to know where Connor was, how he was doing, what he was doing. Crazy stalker fuck he probably was. He just didn't like this friendship of theirs. Not at all.

But still.

Info.

"Ye seen my brother anywhere?" he asked grumpily, but at least he was trying to keep it somewhat friendly. He still kind of owed the guy a more friendly attitude, he'd been the one to go look for him and bring him back here yesterday after all. But still. Liking Daryl? Big fat noooope.

The hunter actually seemed to be surprised by the fact that they were even talking to each other. They decided to hate each other right from the beginning . Murphy, because he was jealous of Connor's and Daryl's relationship and felt like he'd been replaced by the hunter, and Daryl, because he still blamed Murphy for everything Connor had been through. The air was thick between them, invisible sparks were still flying between them, but whenever it was about Connor they were trying to keep some sort of act up to be able to talk to each other at least.

Daryl eyed Murphy head to toe with that confused frown, only to look back at his bike so he could keep working on it.

"He's busy talkin t'Carol and the others, emo kid."

Murphy snorted and looked up, trying to find Connor once more.

"Why'd ye gotta call me emo kid all te fuckin time."

"It's either that, face stealer or…McFrybrain. Your choice" Daryl grunted as some part of the bike didn't seem to want to give in.

Murphy ust snorted angrily. Daryl finally looked at him but squeezed one of his eyes shut since the sun was blinding him.

"Besides, after all the drama I saw yah cause couple 'a minutes ago down there I think emo kid's quite fitting. Same could go for your bro. Really what was that 'bout, you got lost again and Terry returned yah t'leprechaun cos you too stupid to find yah way back home?"

"Oh seriously, fuck you! What's yer fuckin problem? He gonna go out with ye later or not?"

Daryl stopped working again and eyed Murphy once more, maybe a bit amused by the whole thing because it was so easy to rile the younger MacManus up, especially if he compared it to Connor, who was somewhat calmer than his brother. But he hid his amusement and just looked at Murphy.

"I just don't like face stealers. And I told yah. Guy's busy. So nope. Going alone. He'll get back t'yah. Do him a favor and give the guy a minute t'chill from y'all bugging him all day."

Murphy shoved both his hands in his pockets and just left with a growl, because he was too fed up with Daryl and didn't want to talk to him anymore.

"Whatever" he mumbled and decided to go look for Connor on his own.

The hunter looked after the younger MacManus for a moment and then decided to speak up. He rubbed the oil off his fingers with his rag and then threw it on the ground next to the bike so he could stand up.

"Hey emo kid" he called after Murphy, who froze and turned around to give the hunter an angry glare. He wouldn't say anything though and just waited for Daryl to continue.

"I get it. I think leprechaun's acting stupid 'round you, too. Lockin yah up, doing all that shit, he's kinda whacko right now. But see it from the guy's pointa view" the younger of the two said and nodded in the general direction of the library. "Guy shot yah in your melon and feels guilty ever since. Don't matter if yah forgive the guy or not. The way I learned t'live with this nutjob? Give 'im what he wants and yah can live in peace. And that a whole lot faster than the way you doin it now. Cos really, Terry?" he asked and pointed at the house they used as supply storage.

"He'n your bro ain't on good terms. And neither are you'n leprechaun, should yah keep this goin. Do yourself a favor and cut the shit with the guy out. This town got more than enough problems. Lemme give you some advice" Daryl muttered and looked around the street, only to look back at Murphy. "There's _us_ , and _them_. May be a town, but we ain't trusting each other that much around here yet. And Terry ain't on our side. So you wanna make yourself useful and wanna work a real job without Connor constantly bein up yah ass? Work with _our_ people, from the group. Rick, Glenn, Maggie, Carol, whatever. Surround yahself with the right people, do the right kinda thing with 'em? Hell, leprechaun will figure shit out soon enough and cut the crap out on his own. With the guy, all yah gotta do is push the right buttons."

Murphy was really pissed. He hated how Daryl seemed to know –his- brother a whole lot better, hated how the guy was seriously trying to lecture him about Connor. But on the other hand…maybe he was kind of right. Maybe he actually appreciated his help. Murphy looked at the library, now that he had caught wind of the fact that his brother was probably in there, considering the countless times Daryl had looked there whenever he'd been talking about Connor.

"Now get outta my face, yah annoying the crap outta me, freak" Daryl muttered and turned around to get back to his bike.

He didn't like lecturing people. He didn't like sticking his nose in other people's business. Hell, most of the time, he didn't even care. But this whole topic, this fucked up relationship affected him as well, had always done it. The Connor-Murphy thing annoyed the crap out of him, made everything way more complicated than it needed to be, and what he disliked the most about it: it was affecting Connor too much. Changing his freaking mood all the time, turning him into a bitchy drama queen, made him talk about the shit during –their- time together, resulting in him getting grumpy as well.

And he wanted it to stop, which was why he had decided to throw his two cents in and make this stupid freak understand what exactly they were doing wrong and how exactly they needed to stop being giant pussies.

_Jesus._

He got back to his bike and was glad that it didn't seem to take too much time anymore to get it back up and running again, so he could get the hell away from here, head for Peachtree and spend a bunch of hours in peace. His eyes fell on the SS emblem for a moment and he placed a hand on the seat, instantly feeling a bit sad. He and Merle had never been like that. There had never been that much drama, simply because he'd always pretended he was fine and since Merle had –never- talked to him about anything. Their relationship had always consisted of silence, deeds and violence. Nothing more. No bonding, no drama. End of story.

 _Fuck. Moments like these really made him miss old Merle, his own brother._ He moved his hand across the seat, eyes still fixed on the emblem.  
When he turned his head once more to look at Murphy, Connor's brother, the other man was already gone.

* * *

"No, no, please, Sir, you can't go in there?" said the little girl who was just standing by the door, as if she was keeping watch.

Connor smiled and placed a hand on her head to ruffle her hair a bit.

"'s alright, lass. I got an appointment in there, y'know? Carol's waiting fer me. What are ye even doing here? Where are ye parents?" he asked and smiled even more because he was happy whenever he was around kids. He tried to get past the girl but she was still obviously trying to keep him out, which was a bit conspicuous, actually, urging him to go inside and check it out.

"Please, no! Carol is busy right now!" the girl repeated and tried to pull on his shirt, but then Connor was already inside the library.

He was a bit surprised to see all this, but he'd kind of already seen it coming. A whole group of children was sitting on the ground in the back, partly covered by the book shelves that were standing all around them. Carol was sitting opposite them on the ground, with a large box full of knives in front of her. The woman was looking back at him, one knife still in her hand.

"I'm sorry. I tried, but the man was too fast and I couldn't stop him from coming in here" the little girl next to Connor apologized and looked at Carol as well, obviously scared of her being angry with her. But Carol smiled.

"It's okay Jasmine, I asked him to come" she said and got up.

Connor had another worried look around. He knew all of these children. Not all of them by name, but he knew their parents, and he knew that some of these kids weren't even ten years old yet. It was a bit hairy, the whole thing, and he still wasn't too sure if he liked it or not.

"Children, say hello to Connor. He is here to talk to you about guns and how to use them. How to be safe with them, and how they could save your life."

All children turned around and smiled at Connor, some of them even waving.

"Hi" "Hello, Connor" they all greeted him, and although the Irishman didn't even really feel like it he still had to smile because the whole thing was actually pretty cute. "Hey little fellas" he greeted them and then turned around once, to check if no one had followed him in here. Little Jasmine was already back by the door obviously keeping watch.

"Okay. Today we're going to get started with knives. Learn how to use them, how to hack and slash and…"

"Carol? Ye got a second?" Connor interrupted her, still standing on the same spot.

Carol looked back up from the kids and then looked at him. She then nodded.

"Sure."

She looked back at the kids.

"Before I go: here's lesson number one. Knives are no toys. Do not touch them or hold them without me or any other adult being there to look after you. Stay here, you are allowed to look at them, but that's it. If I see anyone close to that box when I get here they're gonna be excluded from this course."

The children nodded, some of them looking at the box, the others looking at Carol, who then smiled.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

She approached Connor who started walking as well to lead her further away from the children, between the book shelves. The Irishman chewed on his lower lip and put both his hands on his lower back, feeling rather uneasy about the whole situation.

"What is it?" Carol then asked and the Irishman finally turned around to look at her while leaning a hand against the shelf to their right.

"Do ye really think this is a good idea?"

The woman opposite him folded her arms and leaned against the shelf as well.

"What do you mean?"

"Teaching te kids all that stuff. I'm not sure this is a good idea."

Carol frowned.

"We've already talked about this. These kids need to protect them themselves. You already taught Carl, so what is the problem? You said yourself that you cannot get started soon enough with this, you told me you learned this very earl.."

"That's cos I'm fuckin Irish alright. I grew up country 'n me and my brother were full of shit back then" Connor interrupted her with and turned around while moving his fingers through his hair.

"And this is the end of the world. There is no difference. The childhood we had? Or children like Beth had? That is gone. It's foolish pretending that they can still have that. Foolish and dangerous. They need to learn how to take care of themselves in case they get lost or their parents die" Carol spoke up yet again, putting Connor in place who turned around and looked at her.

"Their parents are exactly the fucking problem. We shouldn't do tha kinda shit behind their backs. Stuff like tha only backfires on us sooner or later, trust me. Cos if one of tem lads thinks this is a game with toys, they're gonna get hurt and then this is on us. Me'n Murphy learned all that stuff so early cos our family insisted, cos they needed our help back on te farm in Ireland. Yer right, I do believe ye should get started on that as soon as possible, they do need ta learn, but ye gotta play yer cards right and stand behind yer decision and tell people about it. Not just me."

Carol just looked at him for a while, lips pressed together.

"Then I'm going to do this on my own. I'm not losing any more people, especially not any more children. You know how the others are. Especially Rick. They're just going to call this off and keep me from protecting the children" she said and then turned around to get back to the kids. Connor let out a frustrated sigh.

"Carol, wait" he said but she kept walking, so Connor shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Fuck" he cursed and stayed where he was for a moment. He could already hear Carol talk to the children again, explaining things about knives and weapons. He knew that she wasn't going to give in. And the sudden change in her slowly started to creep him out a bit. He remembered old Carol from back on the farm. The woman who had been crying inside the RV, who had mourned her daughter, washed their clothes, cooked dinner, the woman who had never really stepped up or done much. But here she was now, so much stronger, capable of fighting, protecting, surviving and keeping them safe.

Everyone had changed around here, for better or worse, and right now he didn't know if Carol's change was for the former or the latter. Should the latter be the case then at least he wanted to stay and look after the children and keep her from doing too much with them. He let out another gentle sigh and then walked to the back of the library again to assist.

* * *

Daryl was standing on that hill, close to a church, right in front of a cross.  
Murphy narrowed his eyes a bit, wondering what this was about, who was lying there, why the other man had come here.

Sneaking out of Woodbury hadn't been that hard. He was getting better and better at the whole thing, he'd always been pretty sneaky after all. He had decided to follow most of Daryl's advice. Leave Connor alone and give them some space after the Terry dilemma, stop working with the guy for now, and stick to someone from 'the group'. And that one…was Daryl. He was rather surprised by his own choice, but out of all the options the hunter had been the best one, despite their little 'I hate you' problem.

The reasons why he had chosen Daryl were simple. He wanted action. He wanted to go outside. He wanted to stay with someone he already knew. He wanted to stay with someone Connor trusted, and Daryl happened to be a perfect fit. He'd thought a lot about the hunter's words, and he agreed with them more and more.

He was going nowhere if he kept being so incredible stubborn which obviously wasn't working with his brother, it was doing the opposite. Daryl was right. He needed to force his sibling to understand that he was perfectly fine out here, especially when he was surrounded by people they trusted. Going out there to fight off the walkers on his own had been a stupid move, necessary or not. Plans like this one got him lost, in trouble and danger, the exact things Connor loathed more than anything, feared more than anything.

But going out here with Daryl? With the hunter, he couldn't possibly get lost. Murphy could protect himself and watch his ass just fine, he knew that, he _insisted_ , but having backup sure didn't hurt anybody. Daryl looked capable, strong enough with his stupid crossbow and all his crazy hillbilly skills like hunting and tracking.

Out of all the people Murphy had met in this group, Daryl was the most capable, the toughest survivor. He didn't want to stay with Rick forever, although he still wanted to help him out with his garden whenever he could. But gardening wasn't his fucking calling, and neither was peaceful work like helping the old man Hershel in their improvised church. He had spoken the Korean kid, his girlfriend, her sister, and although they all seemed super nice he had to admit that he didn't know them too well and felt like he was intruding in an already existing and complete group. Then there was Rick's kid who he kind of liked but, well, he was a kid after all. And Andrea and Michonne, but they were like the female version of Connor and Daryl, it even felt like they were some sort of couple. He also didn't want to force himself into this group as well, he was also a bit intimidated by Michonne because she seemed uber tough.

So really, Daryl was the only one left here. Which was he had secretly followed him out here. He'd thought that the guy was going on a hunt or scouting mission or something, and without Connor, so that was pretty exciting and promised less drama, but now they were here, by a graveyard, and Daryl was just standing and then kneeling there by some cross, it even looked like he was talking to it.

For a long while Murphy just sat inside his car and stared up the hill, trying to stay hidden but also pretty curious. He'd never given that much thought to the guy. His life, who he had lost, why he was so fucking pissy all the time, why he always seemed to hang out with Connor but hardly ever with anyone else. The younger MacManus tried to concentrate, to recall everything his brother had told him about this guy by now, but his poor abused brain still had trouble keeping much in there and remembering much.

Whatever Connor had told him about Daryl so far, he couldn't remember.

Murphy let out a gentle sigh and stepped out of the car to follow Daryl.

* * *

He just stood in front of the grave for a while, the pile of earth that was slowly getting greener and greener from the patches of grass that were growing on top of it. After more than a month of thinking about it he'd given in and build Merle a small cross to mark his grave. He came here occasionally, during his solo hunting trips, and this was one of them. Back then they had buried Merle here, right next to the girl from the cannibal thing, so he could keep his brother as far away from the prison as possible.

So he could be a free man, so he could truly rest in peace. Now he was even more grateful, because the grave happened to be close to Woodbury. It was a short distance, meaning that he could come here a whole lot more often than he would've been able to do had they stayed at the prison.

"Hey bro" he greeted the cross, the grave, his dead brother and then knelt down to get rid of some weed. "See you doin fine" he mumbled and then smiled a little, only to place his hand on the pile of earth for a moment, leaving it there to feel it. _God, he missed this son of a bitch like crazy._ Sure, Merle had been really annoying some times, drugged, racist, violent bastard, but he'd been _his_. His brother, his blood, his only family. Everyone around him still had family, more or less, but he was all alone. And Connor's brother made that all to clear.

The thing with Connor, that was different now. Whether he wanted it to be like that or not. Before this fucked up turn Connor had been his replacement brother, just like he had replaced Murphy for him. But it wasn't like that anymore. Sure, they were still friends. Best friends. A team, and he never wanted to lose this friendship because it mattered very much to him. But he didn't see Connor as a brother anymore. Couldn't. Not after the thing after the party, not after yesterday night.

It was getting easier by now. He was slowly accepting that change. The friendship thing would always be there, but the brother thing had been exchanged with something different, something new. Not just brotherly affection anymore but…affection. Neither could deny that now. And he didn't even want to anymore. It was just there, and he was okay with it, because this way at least he wasn't too lonely.

But the brother thing hadn't really been replaced by this new thing. It had just made a new hole in his chest, a hole that Merle would've been able to fill but well…he was dead. Connor couldn't fill this as well, so he was back to the loneliness, the sorrow, the mourning.

He chuckled gently and looked down.

"'m surrounded by pussies here, man" he explained and got rid of some more weed. "Shit's contagious. How 'bout you get your ass back up here 'n remind me of the Dixon way, huh?"

He gave the grave a shy smile and tried to imagine Merle's words, which wasn't that hard. He froze in the spot and just stared at the grave, swallowing a bit.

_I really want you back. Right now._

_I just want my brother back.  
_ That's the last thing he'd said to Merle. And it still applied.

He he pulled back his snot with an awkward sniff and looked away.  
 _No, he wasn't going to be all sentimental about that. Only pussies cried. He wasn't going to fucking cry now.  
_

"Ye lost someone?"

Daryl startled violently and sprung back to his feet, turning around and pointing his arrow right at the person who had followed him, only to be freaked out even more because once again it felt like he was looking in a mirror. He snorted and shook his head with an angry frown.

"Geez" he complained and finally lowered his crossbow. He thanked his good reflexes for not having fired an arrow right at Connor's brother, who was standing opposite him, hands buried in his pockets, looking at him with a slightly concerned look on his face. "Ain't nobody ever tell you it's not wise t'sneak up on someone with a weapon? Wouldn't wanna get shot in yah stupid melon, would you?" he snarled and then turned around again to get his backpack.

"Didn' anybody ever tell ye it's not wise ta be standing in the middle of nowhere with no cover and walkin corpses all around ye?" Murphy countered, looking down the hill where he could see a couple of shuffling walkers wander about a field.

"You guys really are twins, ain't yah" Daryl muttered as he sorted his things to get ready so he could get away from here. The remark was an honest one, though. It felt like déjà vu right here. Some Irish guy following him around when he wanted to be alone, asking stupid questions and generally bugging him. Only that he didn't like this Irish guy right here, much in contrast to the other one.

"So did ye?" Murphy asked, and Daryl turned around to give him an annoyed look.

"Did I what?"

Murphy pressed his lips together and shrugged, gently nodding towards the grave.

"Lose someone?" he asked gently, a gesture which actually surprised Daryl a bit. They were usually pretty grumpy around each other, easily losing their patience, snapping at each other, calling each other names and making their dislike for each other very obvious. But this Murphy right here was actually very empathetic, gentle, and seemed to be able to handle stuff like this a whole lot better than Connor ever could.

 _But still. He didn't want to like the stupid emo kid._ Daryl frowned angrily, obviously taken aback by the change of tone.

"Nope, just felt like randomly talkin t'some dead guy I don't know. ….. 'f course, asswipe" he growled and quickly turned around to get away.

He didn't need this sentimental shit. Not with Murphy.

"'m sorry" he heard his lookalike say then though. He had expected an angry remark, some more fighting and the other losing his shit with his crazy temper, but Murphy was still so fucking calm and empathetic. _What the fuck?_ He turned around to look at the Irishman, who was chewing on his lip and then gently pointed at the grave with his hand yet again.

"Fer yer loss. I know how hard it is t'lose a friend. I didn' know."

Daryl just stared at the man opposite him, carefully watching him and trying to figure out if this was a joke, if Murphy was having him on or fucking with him the way Connor usually did. All thanks to his friend he considered all Irishmen insensitive trolls, but there was something about Murphy's behavior that actually told him the man was _honest_ about it.

Whoa.

He really tried to fight it, clenching his fists, gritting his teeth and struggling hard to keep himself from this, but he just –couldn't- fight it. There was just…..something. Something about Murphy that almost forced him to like the stupid Irish shit. And it was so strange. It was very obvious that he was Connor's twin brother. They were very much alike. Their movements, speech patterns, general behavior, they even kind of looked alike. But at the same time, Murphy was very different. Like he was filling in for certain character traits that Connor lacked. His friend may be more charismatic, authoritive and likable at first, but he was lacking stuff like that. Honest empathy.

 _But still. No. He was supposed to dislike Murphy MacManus._ So he just huffed and turned around again.

"Ain't my friend, 's my brother and it ain't none of your concern" he said, closing his backpack and then throwing it over his shoulder.

"Oh" Murphy said, understanding that it was even worse for Daryl.

He could actually understand the guy more and more, understood the whole thing more and more. He vaguely remembered Connor telling him about this, that Daryl had lost his brother and that they'd gotten pretty close after that. Which was kind of logical, now that he thought about it. Two guys who lost their brothers, bonding over said loss. It was plausible, and he felt a bit sorry for Daryl. No wonder the guy was always so angry. He knew this sort of anger, the feeling of hatred, loss and loneliness, that someone as close as a brother or an almost father like Keith had just left them alone in this fucked up world like that.

Daryl was pretty eager at first to get his things together, like he really wanted to leave, obviously embarrassed by this, but then he suddenly slowed down and turned around yet again to look at him with a confused frown. He then slowly came closer, curious.

"What'd you even want here? You follow me?"

Murphy snorted and shrugged.

"Maybe."

Both men just looked at each other for a while, then Murphy sighed.

"Maybe I thought about the shit ye told me, alright? That Connor needs t'get it in his schtupid head and that I should cut the crap with Terry out and stick t'yer people instead. So I figured…he trusts you, yer his friend, so I might as well stick t'you."

Daryl snorted in disbelief. He looked at Murphy for a while longer and then shook his head.

"Unbelievable" he muttered and then adjusted his crossbow. "When I said stick t'people I didn' mean me. I meant someone inside, you dumbass. You think goin out with me's gonna change shit? You don't remember yesterday? Yah just gotta look outta some window and leprechaun loses his shit" he growled and then started walking, but Murphy followed him.

"Fuck you, 'm not gonna get lost again if that's what yer mean. I just wanna be fucking useful around here and help. I was a runner fer my group in Savannah and I was doing perfectly fine, I don't wanna go from Rambo to fuckin old McDonald on a farm. 'm good out here. And maybe if you saw it, ye could tell Connor 'bout it since he's not gonna do shit if I ask him…"

Daryl scoffed and turned his head yet again to look at Murphy.

"You think he's gonna do shit if I tell him? Newsflash, he don't listen to no one. And I ain't no baby sitter or shrink" he said and then got back to ignoring Murphy. He was almost back with his bike.

"Oh Jesus, I just wanna help, why are ye redneck people around here so fuckin proud?"

"Cos we don't need no help from potato eating clowns."

"Don't be such a fuckin hypocrite, yer doing shit with Connor, aren't ye?"

Daryl rolled his eyes with a growl.

"Well, maybe I just can't stand you emo freak and want nothing t'do with yah."

"I hate ye, too. But what's got ta do with anything? Do ye really think I'd be asking someone like you if I had a choice here? Fuck no."

Daryl sat on his bike and reached for the accelerator, but Murphy suddenly placed himself in front of him and grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"Please?"

The hunter gave the Irishman a death glare, hating the touch, the grip, the fact that Murphy was so unyielding. He'd been looking forward to a nice little scouting mission which he could spent completely on his own, but his peace had been disturbed a long time ago. He managed to free his hand with a harsh shake and twist and then continued to stare at Murphy for a long while. After a moment he just shook his head with an angry snort and looked away. Greet. That stupid look Connor had told him about. And now even _he_ couldn't say no. Perfect.

"Let's make it a deal. Yah help me get things for the traps, I put in a good word for yah with the leprechaun, and you leave me alone. Don't talk to me, don't even look at me after that, you don't even exist when 'm around."

Murphy gave him a pleased smirk, a smirk that made Daryl's fists clench around the handles once again. It was obvious that the guy opposite him had given this kind of smirk to Connor many many times before, whether the younger MacManus could remember that or not. But _he_ could remember what Connor had told him about Murphy, his almost supernatural ability of getting whatever the hell he wanted just because there was something about him that just made _everyone_ like him.

It had to be some Irish spell or something. Something like some weird alteration of the Irish lucky charm. Or something. Daryl cursed in his thoughts.

"Deal" Murphy said and then walked away from Daryl's bike so he could get back to his own car.

For a moment the hunter considered just running him over with his bike.

* * *

He hated to admit it, but working with Murphy was actually a pleasant surprise, maybe even better than working with Connor. The younger MacManus was actually very professional. He wouldn't say much, for example. He would only mutter quick directions or ideas as they made their way through this small town as they headed towards the hunting store. Murphy kept very quiet, he would try to tell stupid jokes, make fun of other people or just talk. He did the job, and he was doing it great.

Daryl wasn't quite used to the whole being in charge thing yet. Connor had always been the bossy one, and he'd always been the passive one. But Murphy almost insisted on subordinating and waiting for instructions, looking at him from time to time, like he was patiently waiting for his directions. It was the right move, considering that Daryl knew his way around here way better than Murphy, and also because he was the hunter and tracker.

Murphy was also more agile than Connor. He was still slightly scrawny from his surviving the end of the world prior Woodbury, but he was doing just fine. Whenever there was a walker Daryl would either shoot it with his crossbow or Murphy was already there, sneaking up on the undead, always managing to get behind them and then stabbing the back of their head with a knife and that quick, efficient, and most of all: silent.

So really, Daryl hated to admit it, but they were a good team.

 _Fuck it. He didn't like the sudden change of events and relationships. Not one bit. But it was_ still _happening._

The road was clear and there were no more walkers in sight, so Murphy finally started talking.

"Why'd ye bite Connor yesterday?" he asked casually, but the alarm went right off inside Daryl. For a second he looked at Murphy, tried to find out what the other man was thinking while asking that question, how much he really knew, but when Murphy looked directly at him he quickly turned his head to look in the other direction.

"I didn' bite him" he tried, because he didn't know how much Connor had told his sibling. He doubted that he had told him the whole truth, but still. Better be careful.

"That's strange. Cos he told me ye did this and not a walker" Murphy said, worry suddenly showing in his voice.

Daryl relaxed a bit. _Right, so Murphy obviously thought that Connor was trying to cover up a walker bit._ He snorted and rotated his shoulders a bit because they were tense. He also did it to force himself not to think about last night.

"Cos no walker bit him" he said and then looked at Murphy, trying to put on his greatest poker face.

"I bit your bro cos he's an ass, alright" he explained, which was kind of true and general enough so he could avoid making Murphy suspicious, should Connor have told him something else. Murphy walked a bit to the left to have a look inside a small shop but then resumed talking.

"What were ye fighting about?"

Daryl tensed yet again. Murphy was obviously onto them. He was way too curious for his own good, which he didn't like at all. He didn't want the younger MacManus to ask so many questions, didn't want him to know, didn't want him to find out and possibly tell someone else or even worse, talk Connor out of this. Because he knew how those two were. They were Catholics. Crazy fanatics who loved their stupid god more than anything. Believer or not, the thing he and Connor were doing was wrong. Especially according to their precious belief. Connor might be a bit more relaxed regarding that topic (he'd started this shit after all), but he wasn't too sure about Murphy.

And if Murphy was really against this sort of thing (he couldn't blame him, they were sharing the same face and he also still thought that this was pretty weird), then he would have no trouble talking Connor out of this. Because Connor loved his brother, because he listened to him, because he would let his head get shrunk back into this religious fanaticism. But he didn't want that. He didn't want it to end now. Especially not because of this Murphy asshole.

"Just like I told yah. What'm doing ain't none of your concern."

"Well, I think Connor's my concern, considering he's _my_ fuckin brother. So I wanna know."

Daryl snorted. So they were back to their usual bickering. He actually appreciated this because it made it easier.

"Yeah. And I think if _your_ brother don't wanna tell you it makes it none of yah concern."

"You really gotta…whoa" Murphy wanted to snap but trailed off when he suddenly saw something strange by an old lamppost. Daryl frowned and turned his head in the same direction to see what was going on. He widened his eyes a bit when he saw it.

"What the hell."

Both men turned their heads to look at each other, coming to a silent agreement that they should get closer so they could check it out. There was a man tied to the lamppost. Or more like, what was left of him. All that was left of the corpse was the body, the head was gone. Beheaded. Nowhere to be found. It wouldn't be too strange, considering that walkers could only be killed by destroying the head, but what didn't just make it a walker kill was the fact that the man had been tied to the post, with a sign wrapped around his neck.

_LIAR_

it read.

Daryl leaned in to take a closer look at the mutilated neck. Murphy wrinkled his nose with a frown and then had a look around the surrounding streets, houses and areas, trying to locate the head or the people who had done this.

"What is wrong with ye people down here" he muttered and then looked back at Daryl and the corpse.

"Ain't got no bites. Military clothes, boots, all tied up…guy got executed. Clean cut. Ain't no head around though" he observed and looked around with a frown as well. "Seriously, what the fuck, ain't there anyone sane around here ?" Murphy complained because he couldn't even remember the last time he had crossed paths with somewhat decent people outside the places he'd lived in. Daryl snorted and cleaned the knife he had used to inspect the cut with on his jeans.

"I remember you and your bro doin the same fucked up execution shit. 'Liar', see?" Daryl said and pointed at the strange sign. "Much as I know you could've done this stuff, ain't you into this kinda thing? Executing people who broke the bible bro code? Blowing their heads off and all that?"

Murphy tensed a bit, obviously not liking the topic since he couldn't really remember that.  
He shrugged.

"'m pretty sure we weren't as fucked up as the people who did shit like this. I don't think I'd ever behead someone. Or tie them up before that. That's just psycho."

"Yeah, that it is" Daryl mumbled as he put his knife back in its holster and then grabbed his crossbow to have it ready in case the crazy executioners came back.  
He was even more cautious now.

"Come on, store's right across the street."

Murphy looked at the corpse a moment longer, wondering who had done this, wondering if that had been the people he had encountered in Sharpsburg earlier. Whoever had done this, he sure as hell didn't want them around here.

"Yah comin? Geez, you're slow" Daryl snarled somewhere in front of him and Murphy finally followed him.

* * *

The store wasn't exactly that big, but it was still impressive. There were large animal heads and furs nailed to the wall, old, dusty, and slightly creepy. The smell just added up to the flair, and Murphy had a curious look around. Of course, all the hunting rifles and ammo had been taken ages ago, the shelves were just lying there, empty, dusty, abandoned. But bits and pieces of hunting material were still there. Traps, clothes, rope.

Murphy snorted.

Connor would have a field day with all the rope here.

"Welcome ta RednecksRUs" Murphy muttered as he had a look around.

There wasn't that much useful in here. He was sure that all the good equipment had been taken and robbed the day this whole outbreak had started.

"Shit, ain't much around" Daryl observed as well and quickly entered the store to walk back.

He'd kind of seen that one coming because Andrea had been right earlier at the council meeting. Supplies were getting scarce around the Woodbury area. Fuck.

"What are we lookin fer?" Murphy asked and grabbed an old ammo box, but of course, that one was empty.

"Traps, knives, ropes, anything sharp, anything to keep walkers'n people in place. Just grab everything you can and put it in the car."

"Alright."

It was quiet for a while, as both men searched the store for anything useful. Daryl turned his head from time to time to look at Murphy. He was actually pretty curious by now, and he only just realized that this was actually the first time he was really spending time with the man on his own. It was a bit weird, actually. Very weird. He'd spent a whole year thinking the guy was dead. Murphy had always been a ghost, a nightmare, a distant memory, a constant reminder, like always present mist around Connor.

But here he was now, in the flesh, alive and breathing. He wasn't another one of Connor's hallucinations, he wasn't on a bloody, dirty photo, he was really there. It was weird knowing that much about him without actually –knowing- him. Connor had told him so much about the man and yet he was a complete stranger.

A stranger with his face.

"You ever been on a hunt?" he asked, and immediately wanted to slap himself in the face for trying to get to know Connor's brother. This was exactly the same again. Weird, Irish stranger sort of stumbling into his life, with an unknown past that was waiting to be explored, and he hated that he was so freaking curious. But he just wanted to understand, wanted to grasp what was supposed to be so special about Murphy that Connor had spent an entire year being absolutely devastated by his 'death'.

Murphy turned his head and looked at him, still trying to put stuff in his back but missing him.

"Nope" he answered and then concentrated on the bag again, his coordination being all over the place yet again.

"Can't remember at least" he mumbled and Daryl nodded.

"Sucks."

"Hmhm."

Daryl got back to work and smirked a bit, suddenly remembering his countless hunting trips he'd done with Connor by now.

"Chances are you'd just screw it up anyway. Your bro's a talentless noob at the whole huntin thing, yah just gotta be the same."

That wasn't true, though. Connor wasn't talentless. He'd gotten pretty good at the whole thing. His aim was top notch, he knew how animals worked, he could concentrate really well and he _could_ be quiet. But of course, Daryl would never admit that. Who was he otherwise? It was his job to mock these stupid leprechauns, big city guys they were after all.

"Fuck ye" Murphy muttered without really meaning it. It had become his usual answer to all of Daryl's mockings, just like Connor was always doing it as well.

"Yer talkin an awful lot 'bout him, what are ye, Con's stalker or something?" he then said and Daryl snorted once more, trying to play it down, although the statement freaked him out a bit. Was it really this freaking obvious? He didn't talk too much about the stupid leprechaun. He hardly ever mentioned him. Why would he. He wasn't some crazy obsessed stalker. Nope.

"Why, he tell you that? Sorry t'disappoint, but I ain't his stalker. Don't even like the guy that much."

Murphy snorted.

"Aye. Sure."

He turned his head once more to raise an eyebrow at Daryl.

"Ye know what I think? Yer just….fuck, watch out!"

It happened in a blink. Daryl could smell it and hear it and wanted to turn around the moment he got aware of the walker behind him, but it was happening way faster than expected. Within seconds he heard the loud growl of a walker, then he was immediately grabbed by filthy, disgusting rotten hands which dug hard into his shoulders.

He immediately started struggling and grunting, but the walker rendered him defenseless and unable to move. He still tried to reach for his knife, not accepting any such attack, but Murphy was faster. Daryl didn't even get the chance to blink because then the younger MacManus was already standing in front of him, having sprinted the short way here. He pressed Daryl's head to the side with his left hand and then used his right to bury his knife deep inside the walker's head, just seconds before the undead got the chance to bury his rotten teeth in the hunter's neck.

The walker let go of Daryl's shoulder, giving him enough space to free himself and turn around in surprise. Both men were breathing heavily, still in shock from the sudden attack. Daryl turned his head for a moment and looked at Murphy, who still had his knife in his bloody hand.

 _Wow. That had happened pretty fast._ The walker had actually caught him by surprise. He turned around to look at the undead, slightly insulted by the fact that Murphy had been the one to kill it. He approached the walker at stomped his head just in case, staining the already dirty floor with blood, brain matter and pieces of a rotten skull.

Daryl wiped his nose and then grabbed his crossbow, quickly checking it for any deformed pieces because the walker had pressed its rotten body right at it. He then immediately raised it to be ready in case more walkers turned up, but also to keep it as some protective barrier. Neither Murphy or Daryl got to say anything because then they heard another noise to their left, the door that led to the back of the store they hadn't checked yet.

Two more walkers suddenly stumbled inside the room, and once again Murphy was quicker than Daryl. He immediately raised his knife and then threw it right at one of the two walkers, burying it right in her eye socket. Daryl fired an arrow at the other walker about two seconds later, killing him as well. He then watched Murphy in surprise who was already jogging towards the two corpses on the ground to get his knife and Daryl's arrow back.

The hunter hated to admit it, but now he was actually impressed. He quickly followed the Irishman and then walked past him to check the back room. There was no walker in there, but the back door that led back outside was open, suggesting that the undead had managed to stumble in here through this one. He walked back inside the store and saw how Murphy pulled the knife out of the woman's eye socket and cleaned it on her clothes. He did the same with Daryl's arrow and then got up to give it back to the hunter.

"Nice reflexes" Daryl even allowed himself to compliment Connor's brother, because he kind of had saved him from a possible bite. It had been his fault that he'd been distracted but still, he owed him.

"Being out there on yer own, ye pick up a few tricks. Fast keeps ye alive" Murphy said with a shrug and then walked back to his backpack.

It was ridiculous how he could be so calm about this, like it had been no big problem at all. It was now very obvious that Murphy was perfectly used to the outside life, maybe even more than any of them. Connor snorted. He now really didn't get the deal anymore, why Connor really thought he had to keep the guy inside and from joining their supply runs. If he always was like this, professional, quick, agile and capable, he sure as hell would have been a bigger help than Taylor and all the other bastards who'd gotten themselves killed out there.

"Didn' learn how t'be fast enough out there though, lowlife nearly used me as chew toy" Daryl still grunted, because he had a hard time accepting that Murphy didn't seem to be such a pathetic crybaby after all. He kicked the walker yet again because he couldn't believe that –he-'d almost had a close call because of that filthy fuck. Not after a month of being used to 'invisibility'. And once again he felt a bit jealous of Connor and Murphy, but he tried to hide it.

"I was just considering my options, if I should let 'im eat yer annoyin ass or not" Murphy said and then gave him a mischievous smirk. "Shoulda probably let him do it, though, considering yer such an ungrateful fuck."

Daryl huffed and then grabbed his backpack and the things he had gathered as well.

"Screw yah" he mumbled and then had another quick look around, checking if he'd forgotten anything. He also did it because he was at loss right now and didn't have a decent comeback.

"Let's get the hell outta here. Before more of 'em show up" he just said, eager to get away from here so he didn't have to spend much more time with this douchy know-it-all.


	16. Peace Offering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one of the pretty 'meh' chapters, but it needed to be done and talked about, just like the previous ones. I wanted to resolve the Murphy issue and this one's kind of doing the job. Sorry if it's crappy.
> 
> I wanted to spice things up a bit with more Connaryl, but well, it would've turned this into a 15,000 words chapter. Too much. BUT. The next chapter will give you some sweet lil (much) more Connaryl ;D And we're really really close to the disease chapters now. I can't wait to destroy my own little sandcastle of happiness again :D

Daryl spent some time inside the town hall. He delivered all the things he and Murphy had found in Peachtree, so the scouting crew got everything they needed. He tried to explain everything to Wendy and the crew, people from Woodbury he thought capable enough of building traps. Part of him really wanted to go with this group and set up the traps himself, but he had promised Connor that he was going to join his group instead. He was torn there, and it didn't exactly help his mood because he was a bit stressed and pissed already anyway.

He and Murphy had returned to Woodbury about an hour ago, but so far, he hadn't been able to find Connor yet. He supposed that he was still busy with Carol, and maybe this was a good thing because he didn't want to tell him about the 'deal' just yet. He wanted some time to really think about it, to calm down and get some space first. Which was why he stayed and helped the scouting crew with their preparations.

Harry, one of the people from Woodbury, asked yet another stupid question about the traps and Daryl rolled his eyes. Maybe he really needed to go out there with them, and then again to check their work later.. Yeah. He was going to do that. He so was going to check the traps on his own. After that. In peace. Make sure that everything was okay, that Woodbury was protected, but without any of its annoying and stupid inhabitants right by his side all the time. Maybe he could even drag Connor along later today. Just to check the traps of course. Together. Alone.

Before he went after Harry to explain the whole thing yet again he frowned a bit and had to think about his previous train of thoughts. He knew _exactly_ what he'd been thinking about in regards to going back out there to the abandoned part of Woodbury, dragging Connor along, just like _yesterday_. He knew that this wouldn't be about the traps. Those were just a nice excuse. He shook his head with an angry growl and then finally started walking.

No, he was not going to get started with this bullshit now.

* * *

The first thing Connor did when he stepped outside the library was light a smoke and then exhale with a gentle sigh. He spat on the ground and swallowed hard, only to have a look around Woodbury. The town was pretty busy by now. He could see Michael and a bunch of people just by the Eastern wall. They were measuring, hammering, and adjusting things, obviously already working on their fortification process.

 _At least someone's workin according to plan_ , he thought and took a deep breath.  
He startled a bit when the children suddenly ran past him, some of them even bumped into him.

"Bye Connor" "Byeee" five of the girls said as they passed him and started giggling. He smiled a bit and watched them leave.

"Bye Jasmine, Lizzie, Mary-Anne."

He already knew their names. There was some more giggling, then they were gone.

It was absurd. The giggling, the instant going back to playing.

 _They're not ready yet,_ he thought and swallowed yet again. _Of course they're not ready. They're children._

He still had a hard time coming to terms with this new role. He was actually surprised that the children had behaved, although they were acting all childish again now. He remembered them sitting all around him and Carol, half of a circle, watching them with interested eyes. They had explained them the easiest of things today, showed them a knife and an unloaded gun, explained them the parts of the weapons, what they did, why they were dangerous but also how they could save a life.

None of the children had been allowed to touch any of their weapons. Loaded and not sharpened or not. Connor had insisted on that. So he thought that he didn't need to feel too bad about it. The children were still happy now, back to their silly innocent childishness, which was both a good sign but also a bad sign. He was still worried that this whole thing could go wrong.

Although he had never been a father he knew how children worked, and he had always felt pretty paternal. After their father had left them he had kind of taken on the father role, something he had never been able to get rid of. He knew that the innocence and inexperience of all those children could backfire. Something he certainly dreaded. But at the same time….he had to agree with Carol. Those kids needed to learn. Because their innocence could get them just as much killed. And during their lesson they had been attentive enough. No childishness, no giggling, no nothing.

He took a deep breath and turned his head further to the right so he could look in the direction of the patch of grass by the wall, the spot Rick used as his garden. The first thing he did was smile when he saw Murphy with him. That certainly made him feel relieved. It was good to know that his brother seemed to have thought about their previous little fight about the Terry thing. The fucker was nowhere in sight, probably back in his little slaughterhouse, but Murphy wasn't there with him. Not anymore. No, he was back with Rick now. Someone he trusted. Connor breathed out a big cloud of smoke and swallowed yet again.

Rick. A person who trusted him as well.

Maybe he should just tell him about this. Bring the issue up during another council session. Make it an official debate. Maybe this would make him feel better about this. It certainly would make him feel less torn. He wanted to teach the kids and he also wanted their parents to be alright with it. Carol was right. He had already taught Carl. So maybe Rick was going to be alright with it.

Connor started walking, burning cigarette still in his hand. He wasn't too sure what he was going to do yet, and maybe it was a bit awkward, heading right for Rick when he didn't even know if he was going to lie to him or if he was going to tell him about the thing with Carol. Whatever he was going to do, he still needed to go there because he wanted to talk to Murphy.

The closer he got to the garden the more he had to smile though. Although he felt rather torn because of the thing with Rick and Carol seeing his twin just made him happy, a feeling of happiness that was far more present than the one of doubt and slight regret. He was halfway there when he suddenly had to slow down. Daryl's motorbike was back. Standing just to his right, in a different spot than the one he had seen it before he had gone after Carol, which meant that his friend had returned. Connor had a quick look around and found the hunter a moment later. He was standing in front of the town hall and was busy talking to someone.

Daryl turned his head after a moment, as if he had sensed that he was being watched. Connor automatically smiled a bit, happy to see that his friend had noticed him as well. He was even more surprised when Daryl somewhat tried to smile back, although it still looked too tense, too forced and just not really natural, especially since the hunter rarely really smiled. But he seemed to try. The Irishman took a deep breath and quickly looked back to Rick and Murphy.

_Fuck. And yet again he was pretty torn. Go to Daryl first, go to Murphy first…._

When he looked back at Daryl he already saw the look on his face. Jealousy. A look that said ' _yeah of course you're gonna go to him first._ '

Connor pressed his lips together and looked at Rick and Murphy once again, only to make the decision. Fuck it. He could talk to Murphy right after that. Maybe it was even a good thing that he didn't have to see Rick right after teaching kids how to work with weapons just a couple of minutes earlier.

When he looked back at Daryl he could already see that his friend wasn't looking at him anymore and that he had gone back to work with the other guy from Woodbury. He figured that his friend really thought that he was going to talk to Murphy first and forget all about him while doing so, but Connor let out an angry snort and then walked right towards his friend, coming to the conclusion that he could kill two birds with one stone. Convince the hunter that he also mattered to him even with Murphy around, and get some more time to think this kids thing through.

He knew that he could talk to Daryl about almost everything. The hunter knew Carol, considered her a friend as well, so maybe it was a good idea to let him in on this as well. He also knew that Daryl didn't like getting asked for an opinion or a side, just like he knew that he had kind of promised Carol not to tell anyone. He had the word Veritas on his finger. Truth. He was supposed to tell the truth. And yet he also had to stay true to his promise.

He clenched his fists a bit and forced himself to no longer dwell on this problem.

_Fuck it. He was going to take it easy now.  
_

* * *

Harry had to be the dumbest of them all. Daryl didn't understand why anyone would even let the guy in on this search. Sure, he had muscles and he was well-trained and stuff, but he didn't know shit. Daryl tried to explain to him how the man was supposed to put up and use a simple foothold trap. How it worked, what it did, where he should put it. Simple, really, but to Harry it seemed to be the most complicated thing he had ever come across.

Although Daryl considered this trapping and hunting thing his true calling he just didn't like explaining it to others. He hated teaching anyone anything, because he just wasn't good at it. It was hard to find the right words, hard not to lose his patience. It was frustrating. Rick, Hershel, Glenn, Andrea or Connor usually did the talking. Hell, they even had 'teachers' in this town who sure as hell could do a better explaining job than him. But of course. He was stuck here, trying to make the guy understand.

He almost wanted to give it up and walk over to Wendy right away, to tell her about his plan that he was gonna join their run because noobs like Harry were just going to get themselves killed in their own traps out there. But then he suddenly got the feeling that he was being watched. He gritted his teeth a bit, already suspecting that this was freaking Murphy again. Of course it had to be that stupid fucker. He was certain that the Irishman wanted to make sure he stuck to their deal. Nag him some more. Annoy him some more. He was just as stubborn as Connor. Maybe even more.

Daryl closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and then turned his head to look up, only to be surprised. Connor was standing there, just down the street, not too far from the library. He had returned from whatever he and Carol had been doing in there up until now. Maybe he was a bit confused by it, maybe even jealous, although he didn't even know of who. Carol, because she had been with Connor, because she was a woman and could give the guy so much more than he could, or Connor, because he had been with Carol, his friend, the only woman he really liked but was too afraid to really go in a direction like _that_ with.

Connor, who saw that he was looking back at him, instantly gave him a smile. Daryl still didn't like that he responded to it like that, but seeing the Irish weirdo still made him happy, made him feel more relaxed and less socially awkward. And although he still tried to fight it a bit he actually smiled back. It wasn't the first time he was doing that, smiling because of Connor, laughing because of him, but it was still hard to do that, he still considered it slightly awkward because even after all this time he wasn't used to being that open with someone.

And yet he was still doing it.

But he instantly stopped smiling when a certain someone called Murphy put a spoke in his wheel. Connor turned his head to look further up main street, in the direction of the Eastern wall where Rick's garden was located. Daryl looked over there as well, but he already knew what was happening there. Murphy had listened to him. He had not gone back inside to work with Terry yet again. He was out in the open, crouched down next to tomatoes and cucumbers. He was working with Rick now, someone Connor trusted, just like he had told him.

And because he had chosen Rick he was out in the open, somewhere Connor could see him as well, which only led Daryl to the most logical conclusion. He looked at Connor again, saw the happy look on his face which was only there because of Murphy being there as well. Without a doubt. He tried to hide it, but he was even more jealous and most of all: disappointed. _Of course the stupid leprechaun was going to go to his stupid brother first_.

Daryl snorted and looked back at Harry. Maybe it was a good thing that the man was so incredibly stupid when it came to traps. It just made it so obvious that he was needed here, needed with the trapping group and not the other scouting mission anyway.

"Watch yah mitts. This could go the wrong way and it ain't gonna be a walker but your amputated arm we gonna catch" Daryl warned Harry when he almost grabbed the wrong piece of the trap, even slapping his hand away because he was also pretty angry now.

"'s that a real one this time and nat just a movie prop?" he heard a third man say after a moment and looked up in surprise.

Connor was standing opposite them. For a moment Daryl actually had to look back at the wall and make sure but yep, Murphy was still there, working with Rick in his silly garden. And yet Connor was still _here_ , standing in front of him, smoking cigarette in his left hand and looking down at him and Harry with an amused smirk.

Daryl knew what his friend was aiming at. The two chicks from the lake from a week ago, when they had been on their way to Augusta. The one woman that had managed to trick Connor with a fake foothold trap and had put him upside down on a tree. Daryl gave his friend a half smirk and shielded his eyes because the sun was shining right in his face and made it hard for him to see Connor.

"Wanna try it, see if it gets yah hung up like you're on a Christmas tree?" he even teased, instantly happy again, happy and surprised. He had not seen this coming, that Connor would actually come and talk to him first. The Irishman gave him a grin, obviously remembering the incident as well. "Go fuck yerself" he said with that grin and then nodded at the other equipment by the door.

"Got everything ye need? How's Peachtree?"

Daryl looked back at the stuff as well and then got up while brushing his hands against each other to clean them.

"Yeah. Peachy" he said and whipped the sweat off his forehead.

"See ye got some rope there. Good catch. Always useful" Connor said approvingly and Daryl snorted. He opened his mouth a bit because he wanted to say something, but for some reason it didn't want to leave his tongue. It was right there: _Your bro brought this one along, not me._ But he couldn't say it. He didn't want to spoil his own mood when he was so happy that things were back to normal and easy, didn't want to bring up Murphy when Connor had just decided against him and came here first.

But at the same time he knew that he owed him. Owed _them_. No matter how much he hated that. Murphy remembering Connor's weird thing for ropes was another progression, another sign that he had not forgotten everything. A good sign Connor needed to know about and which would make him happy. No matter how left out –he- felt there. Daryl tried to open his mouth yet again to finally say it, but then his friend suddenly spoke first.

"Ye got a minute? There's something..I gotta talk ta you about" he muttered and nodded to the left, indicating that Daryl should have a walk with him.

The look on the hunter's face changed to a curious one. He wondered what this was about, and for a second he tried to read his friend but had no luck. Connor wasn't looking in Murphy's direction at all, indicating that this wasn't about his brother for once. _Maybe it was about them? About last night?_ The whole thing made him feel pretty uneasy. Daryl bit his lip and then finally nodded.

"Hmhm. Yeah. Been wanting t'talk t'yah anyway."

He then turned around to look at Harry, who was still trying to get to know the foothold trap.

"Be right back H, don't do nothing stupid. Better take a break and talk to Wendy in the meantime."

"Yeah yeah" the Woodburian muttered and kept ignoring them just like he had done it before, because he was still way too caught up and busy with the whole thing. Daryl snorted and then finally followed Connor. The two of them started to aimlessly walk around. Connor took a few drags on his almost finished cigarette and then suddenly handed it to Daryl to share it. The hunter looked at the glowing cancer stick for a second and then took it with a smirk, unable to say no.

"So?" he said in regards to Connor's wish to talk to him and then took a long drag on the cigarette Connor had been smoking up until now. The Irishman just stared straight ahead, both his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. He wouldn't say anything for a while, and that just made Daryl even more nervous. It was obvious that his friend was thinking hard about something, something unpleasant. The hunter even panicked a bit, his inner demons telling him that this was the part where his friend would tell him that he regretted all the shit they had done during the past couple of days, laughing at him for falling for this, calling him a pathetic, clingy obsessed fag, and that all in Merle's voice.

"Carol'n I taught te kids how ta use guns and knives today. Back at te library."

Daryl tried not to snort. He certainly hadn't seen this one coming.

"Yeah, figured things like story time ain't gonna take so goddamned long. So?"

Connor let out a gentle, exhausted sigh and looked down.

"Their parents don't know. Rick doesn' know."

Daryl slowed down a bit and then turned his head to look back at the library.

"What?" he asked with a frown and Connor nodded.

"Aye" he muttered and then rubbed his face. "Carol asked me not ta tell anyone, but fuck it. I don' know if it's the right thing ta do."

Daryl pressed his lips together and then looked in the direction of Rick's garden, just like Connor. The both of them watched their leader and Murphy work for a moment.

"Huh" the hunter muttered, not sure what to make of all that. "Then….why yah tellin me?"

Connor snorted and looked at him in disbelief. "Cos I'm just looking fer a conversation starter..Jesus. 'f course not. Last time I did shit behind other people's back it ended with yer brother dying" he reminded the hunter and Daryl automatically pressed his lips together and clenched his fists. But he wouldn't say anything though, he just listened. "I don't wanna make the same mistakes twice and I actually wanna go back to the think first and act later thing this time. So. 'm telling ye cos you know them better than me. Carol's yer friend. So is Rick. Ye've been in this group a whole lot longer than me."

Daryl snorted as well.

"Ain't true. Just been around them about two weeks longer than yah" he muttered and Connor rolled his eyes in annoyance.  
The hunter stopped walking and looked at his friend with a frown.

"What you want me t'do about it?"

Connor stopped walking as well and turned around.

"Jesus, Daryl. Stop acting like ye can't make any decisions fer this group and stop acting like no one ever asks yer shit, alright. I'm asking ye cos I want yer opinion on this. And maybe I just need fucking advice fer once."

"I think yah always know shit."

"Fuck yeah I always know shit" Connor interrupted his friend, which made Daryl raise and eyebrow. The Irishman shifted a bit. "Well, most of te time. So? What do _you_ think about te whole thing?"

Daryl gave his friend a gentle smirk and then buried his hands in his armpits, as if he was hugging himself. Although he didn't like getting asked for an opinion he was actually still flattered that Connor would ask him and not anyone else. Like _Murphy_. The smirk instantly disappeared. He took a deep breath and then watched Rick and Connor's brother for a moment, contemplating this.

"Carol's a good person. She's just doin it for the group and kids. I think cos of the thing with Sophia?" he hesitated for a short moment because it still felt like a stab in his guts. He still felt guilty because of that. But then he kept going. "I think yah and Carol are doin the right thing. Those kids need t'learn. When I got lost in the woods learning all that hunting stuff pretty early was all that kept me alive. And that was back then. Now? Yeah. Ain't nothin wrong with teaching those kids a thing or two" he tried to assure his friend, not just because he believed in this, but also because of his loyalty and trust in Carol and Connor.

He then looked at Rick yet again and even nodded at him.

"But yah should probably tell him. Rick ain't stupid. He's gonna understand. He may be on beans'n potatoes right now but..maybe yah two just gotta trust his judgment a lil more."

Connor looked at Rick as well. He swallowed and then nodded after a while.

"Aye."

Daryl nodded as well and looked in his friends face, once again chewing on his lips.

"Yah want me t'talk t'them?" he suggested, remembering that Rick and Connor hadn't been on good terms for a while, back at the prison.

Connor shook his head and then looked down at his feet, obviously still thinking about everything. He kicked at a stone and shook his head once more.

"No. 's alright. Just needed yer opinion on this. I agreed ta help Carol, so I gotta figure this out on my own. I just needed t'hear someone else say it.  
Cos y'know, my own decisions and ideas usually suck."

Daryl chuckled.

"Understatement."

Connor looked back up and smirked at his friend.

"Bullshit. My plans are brilliant. I was just shitting ye."

"Yeah, keep telling yahself that, leprechaun" Daryl muttered and the hairy topic was officially done. The both of them started walking yet again and Connor was seemingly more relaxed and happier again.

" Alright. So, what did you wanna talk about then?"

"Huh?"

Connor looked at his friend.

"Ye said you wanted ta talk t'me anyway?"

Daryl instantly raised his head to look at Rick and Murphy again, only to fix his eyes on the latter. Now that they were getting closer to them it seemed like the younger MacManus had caught wind of it. He would look up from time to time, obviously curious and expectant. He knew that Connor's brother thought that they were talking about Peachtree right now. The deal and everything.

He hated the guy for continuously getting between them now, how he constantly seemed to destroy _their_ moments together. And it wasn't even just that. He knew that it wasn't going to be over as soon as he had told Connor. Sure, part of their 'deal' was that Murphy was supposed to leave him alone, that they were going to avoid each other. But he knew that this wasn't going to work. Because as soon as Connor realized that his twin was doing just fine out there he was going to drag him along freaking _everywhere_. No more solo scouting missions with just the two of them, like back in the old days. No, then freaking Murphy was going to be everywhere, maybe even making them a triple team because no matter how much he hated it, they could achieve even more in a group of three, for the sake of their group, for more supplies, for better coverage.

Great.

He owed everyone. The group. Murphy. Connor.  
He was a man who kept his word.

They walked a little more as Daryl tried to find a way out of this but of course, there was no way out.   
He sighed and stopped walking for a final time.

"I was on my way t'Peachtree when your bro caught up with me" he began and Connor looked at him in surprise. Daryl just looked in Murphy's direction. "He'd been followin me outta town. Had it all planned out, sneaky fuck" he said and snorted. There was a short pause and Connor was seemingly shocked by the idea that Murphy had actually left town without telling him, without him knowing about it.

"We made a deal and…"

The hunter let out an angry, frustrated growl. Not just because he was angry with Connor, but also because this whole situation and jealousy made him angry.

"Oh just fuck it. He ain't no kid yah stupid dumbass, alright" he growled and then continued to just glare at his friend. "Yah know what, that ain't just a deal, that's actually the truth. And you need t'get this in your thick Irish skull. Yah annoy the crap outta everyone with this, but most of all, yah annoy the crap outta me. Both of you. Look at this stupid fuck over there" he said and even got a bit rougher by actually forcing Connor to look at his sibling.

"He's freakin _older than me,_ alright? You get that? He's the one who dragged most of the traps outta Peachtree. He even saved my ass back there. I coulda bitten the dust if it weren't for the guy. Twice, actually. Don't be stupid and stop acting like a pussy. Your bro's doin _just fine_ out there. Ain't that many occasions where I actually say that I respect a guy's work out there, but 'm tellin yah this time. Your bro don't need you out there. _We_ need guys like him out there. Keepin him in here like some grounded kid's just stupid, and stupid gets people killed. People like Taylor. So stop doin all that crap and go tell people t'put him on a team. Mike and Wendy were right at the council meeting. They need people."

Connor was just about to say something, but Daryl spoke up yet again.

"And yah know what? I ain't gonna go out there with you t'day just cos of all y'all stupid lookin at me during the council meeting. The deal is, Harry and his crew over there actually need my help more than you t'day. Stop bein so goddamned clingy. I'm gonna go with the Woodbury scouts. You wanna take someone back t'the Interstate? Fine. Take your bro. Could give you, Glenn and Michonne a whole lot better advantage in the field than me, cos the both of yah are immune in case you don't remember. You really think you know shit? Fine. Then start acting like yah do" he snarled and then just walked past Connor because he was fed up with this.

For the first time he hadn't been that aggressive and angry because he'd been in this kind of mood. He'd done it on purpose to make it easier for him to let go, to let these two clowns get back together again, so they could be a great team, one Woodbury certainly needed. It hurt to say all this, to go back to the pushing when they were actually far past that. He didn't want to push anymore, had never intended to do it ever again, but in this case it was actually necessary.

He had said it himself today. With Connor, you just needed to push the right buttons.

He knew that this was a fight he could never win, so he did the only thing he considered healthy enough.   
Let go a bit more. Just like he had told his friend to let go.

He didn't give Connor the chance to respond, he just kept walking, back to the town hall, back to Harry and the people who wanted to leave town in just a couple of minutes anyway. Connor called after him because he obviously wanted to talk about this, but Daryl decided that he wasn't going to talk to neither of the MacManus twins until they had figured this all out.

* * *

Murphy rubbed the smooth red surface of the tomato and smiled a bit. It felt good to be doing something like this. Getting food for their town, the kids, everyone. Although the day had started kind of rough it had slowly gotten better. He'd had the opportunity to go out there. To really show what he was capable of. He had saved Daryl's ass, and although the guy was still pretty much an asshole he hadn't been able to deny that. The hunter had actually acknowledged him today. On their trip. Exactly like he had planned.

It made him feel pretty smug, and in the end he just smiled eve more. He put the tomato in the basket and then raised his head to check what Rick was doing. Their leader was still busy hacking away on the ground as he tried to expand their farming land further along the wall. Half the front yard of this house, the entire patch of grass, had been turned into a garden and field by now.

Rick had told him that he certainly appreciated his help, just like Terry had done it before. Doing work on their own had been pretty exhausting for the both of them, especially for Rick. It really looked like not many people seemed to like how the man was acting, how he was always here, in his garden. Murphy could not really understand that. Why all those people thought that this was such a bad thing, useless thing. He had no idea what kind man Rick had been before he had discovered gardening as his true calling. He just supposed that the man had been a pretty tough guy before this. People wouldn't consider him their leader otherwise. And they wouldn't be so disappointed in him now.

Sure, even Murphy thought that this whole thing was a tiny bit silly. It could be boring. It _was_ boring. There was no action, no guts, no danger. Just dirt and heat of the sun and the smell of grass and vegetables. But it was still a very useful thing. Certainly the right kind of balance after a hard and confusing day outside or inside with crazies like Connor.

Murphy let out a gentle sigh, rubbed the sweat off his face and then looked up in the other direction. Speaking of which. It had been about an hour now since his and Daryl's return and he still hadn't seen his brother yet. At least up until now. It still freaked him out a bit. This weird sixth sense kind of thing. Like he could actually feel where his brother was, sense his presence when he exited a house or when he was coming closer. Because Connor was suddenly right there, in the middle of main street and walking in his direction…with Daryl right next to him.

Murphy usually hated to see these two together, but now he was actually a bit excited. Although he still didn't know too much about the hunter he just knew that the guy was the kind of man who stuck to his deals and promises. He seemed to be very loyal, and Connor mattered to him, without a question.

The younger MacManus continued picking tomatoes off the bushes but watched the other two cautiously, expecting to see some sort of reaction from Connor. He frowned when the two of them just seemed to talk with neither of them flipping out. His sibling didn't look freaked out, he didn't even look at him that much, which made Murphy realize that maybe they weren't even talking about him and the trip to the other town at all. The dark-haired MacManus picked off the tomatoes a bit rougher, angry with Daryl because the guy just didn't seem to get to the point, always fucking playing him and… He nearly squashed a tomato and looked down on surprise, only to move a gentle thumb across its surface.

No. He wasn't going back to the angry, tempered 'little brother' thing. He wasn't going to give them that satisfaction. Not Connor. Not Daryl. He was going to be patient. He instantly grabbed the vegetables with extra gentle hands and placed them carefully inside the basket. Mary, one of the women who didn't seem to belong to the 'group' but to Woodbury, wanted to make a tomato salad for their people later. She had asked him and Rick earlier today, because they wanted to host another small barbeque later this evening, as soon as the scouting troops returned home.

Rick had agreed to supply some of his vegetables, since they were almost overripe and needed to go anyway. Hence Murphy's very first real gardening task. He liked how the others instantly seemed to accept him in this group and trusted him, although he believed to know what this was really about. He looked like Daryl. That certainly seemed to make it easier for everyone, because they already knew the hunter. Even the latter had kind of accepted his willingness to help. All he needed now was…

Murphy grumbled and looked back at Connor and his redneck friend.

All he needed now was Connor to stop his hyper-protectiveness bullshit. Then everything would be perfect.

When he looked back up he was actually surprised to see that the two of them seemed to be fighting now. Or more like, Daryl was having a monologue and Connor just looked at him in surprise. Murphy's lookalike kept pointing at him as he heatedly talked about something, and although the whole thing seemed to be pretty tough Murphy still had to smile a bit. It was obvious. They were talking about him now. Daryl was telling Connor about Peachtree. He was sticking to their deal. Everything he had told him by the bike and out there, it really looked like he was firing that at his brother now.

Funny that. His part of the deal was to not talk to Daryl anymore, to avoid him and pretend the other did not exist after that. Except that he actually and instantly liked the guy more now. Respected him more. For doing this for him. No matter how much he disliked Connor's and Daryl's relationship, he couldn't deny that it came in pretty handy.

Now all Connor needed to do was freaking _get it_.

He finally stopped looking and just left them to it. He knew that he wasn't going to achieve shit with Connor. This had been the very reason why he had actually asked Daryl for help, although he couldn't even stand the guy. It sucked to know that although _he_ was Connor's brother he just didn't know how to really handle the guy. He hated it, that he just couldn't remember that much about him, no matter how hard he tried. He hated it, it hurt, but he couldn't change it. All he could do was wait and see. Wait for Daryl to maybe achieve something. Or wait until he remembered more. Maybe remembered more until one day he finally knew enough about his relationship with his brother again so he could handle it himself.

He just kept picking tomatoes and then grabbed the small rake to clean the place up a bit.

It seemed to take forever until he finally heard his voice.

"Murph."

When he looked up he saw Connor standing there, just by Rick's new and improvised fence that secluded the garden from the wall and rest of the front yard. Murphy let go of the rake and just looked at his twin.

"Aye?"

He was still a bit angry with him because of the thing with Terry. Connor looked back at him, and Murphy wasn't too surprised to see that his sibling wasn't smiling. _Of course he wasn't. The fucker was probably mad at him and living through yet another one of his crazy 'I gotta protect you' phases. For all he knew the next thing Connor could be doing was drag him away from here because he could cut his finger on a leaf or something. Crazy paranoid fucker that he was lately._

But Connor stopped looking at him for a moment and looked at Rick instead.

"Hey Rick" he greeted him and the former cop turned around to look at the Irishman, hands full with leaves and foliage.

"Hey, it's good to see you, I've been wanting to talk to you and Daryl anyway if you got the time" he said and dropped the stuff he was carrying inside the barrow.

Connor nodded and gave their leader a little smile.

"Aye, same here. But maybe we could do that after the scouting mission? The others wanna leave real soon and 'm kinda in a hurry.   
I just wanted ta talk to my brother real quick."

Rick rubbed his nose and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm in no hurry. I just got an idea and I could use your help with that. But we can talk about this later, you're right.   
Maybe at the barbeque."

Connor frowned a bit.

"Another one?"

Rick nodded and got rid of his gloves.

"Yeah. Andrea thought it would be a good idea to tell people about your latest plans for this town there. We got some rive vegetables to spare and Terry got a good amount of meat the hunters and Daryl brought with them during the past couple of days, so we thought a barbeque would be a good idea."

Connor put both his hands in his jeans and nodded.

"Aye. It is."

"Yeah" Rick just muttered and got back to work.   
  
Connor looked at Murphy for a moment, who was still waiting for him to tell him what was up, what had happened with Daryl. But before it got to this topic Connor wanted to ask Rick one more thing.

"So... if ye say we, does that mean yer gonna talk t'people again? Later tonight? Ye back with the council now?"

Rick shook his head.

"No. No. I don't think so. I still got…stuff to do."

Connor nodded and decided not to say something to that. He still didn't like that Rick was suddenly so passive about everything, but maybe the guy really just needed a break. He let out a gentle sigh and then finally looked at Murphy.

"You got a minute, Murph?"

Murphy narrowed his eyes a bit, obviously trying to read his mind, trying to see what this was about, what Daryl had achieved or not. But he couldn't quite see what was going on in Connor's head. He let out a gentle sigh as well and got back up.

"Be back in a minute, Sheriff" he told Rick and then cleaned the dirt off his knees, only to follow Connor until they reached the backyard of the property Rick used for his gardening purposes. The older of the two twins turned around after a moment but wouldn't really look at Murphy.

"Ye went ta Peachtree?" he asked, and it was more than obvious that he didn't like it.

Murphy snorted.

"If this is another one of yer fuckin-"

"It's not, alright" Connor said with an angry eyeroll. Murphy narrowed his eyes even more, not really buying it.   
The other man took a deep breath and finally really looked at his sibling.

"Ye know it's fucking dangerous and stupid ta jump the wall without telling the others…"

"And ye know I already told you that yer not my fuckin mo…."

"BUT" Connor interrupted Murphy and stared him down.

"Daryl told me. About tha hunting store, the walkers….How many ye killed. That ye helped out."

Murphy shrugged and folded his arms, looking away with an annoyed look on his face.

"Yeah, so?"

"He also told me about _yer deal_."

The younger MacManus looked at his twin at the mention of that, and Connor just looked back at him for a while.   
He then let out an exhausted sigh.

"Yer not gonna stop that bullshit, are ye? Yer not gonna stay here and work with Rick all day. Be all nice and reasonable."

"Nope."

"Ye could've just told me that ye wanna…"

"Oh don't gimme that bullshit now, Connor. I fucking did. I told ye. Lotsa times. But yer just too…schtupid t'get it."

"I'm not."

Murphy wanted to voice his frustration, to say something to make Connor understand, he wanted to punch him in his face, he wanted to leave his ass, he wanted to stay, so many things were going through his head, but all he managed was an angry huff. He just shook his head and decided to give it up.

"I'm not havin that fuckin conversation with ye all the time. 'm gonna keep going out there. Yer not okay with that? Fine. Whatever. Go fuck yerself if ye can't get used to that, Connor. I wanted ta give ye a chance and even talked ta yer fucking girlfriend and you just fucking gotta…" he rambled and kicked at a loose bunch of weed as he headed back with a frustrated growl. He was really disappointed now. He thought that the thing with Daryl would finally put an end to this bullshit, but if even the redneck couldn't solve this shit, then all hope seemed to be…

"Murph."

"What?" he growled and stopped walking to turn around and look at Connor.   
  
His brother looked at him for a very long while, then he suddenly started smiling and came after him.

"'m not done, alright. Just calm yer fucking arse. Ye've always been an impatient bastard. Fuckin hell. Let a man finish his talk and listen t'Connor fer once."

"Fuck you."

Connor stopped walking but wouldn't stop smiling at him, and maybe that took Murphy off guard a bit.   
He didn't know how to take that.

"Go grab yer shit, then" Connor said after a while and Murphy frowned even more.

" _What_?"

Connor started walking again and nudged his brother's belly when he walked past him.

"Come on, the others are waiting. Before someone else grabs the stuff we need. It ain't gonna lie out there ferever."

" _What_?"

The older twin slowed down and even dared to cuff the back of his brother's head with a smirk.

"Stop saying fuckin 'what'" he ordered and Murphy tried to move out of his reach with an angry "Ow! That hurt asshole!"

Connor snickered for a moment and then just gave Murphy an honest smile.   
They looked at each other for another while and then Connor let out a final sigh that showed defeat.

"Ye got me, alright. People wanna check out a construction site just off the interstate, I gotta go and I figured, since ye can't calm yer arse anyway, you might as well join us. Daryl bailed out cos he's gotta help the others, but we still need a helping hand. And I'd rather take someone I can trust insteada fucking Mike or anyone else from Woodbury. People are just gonna get bitchy again."

Murphy still rubbed the back of his head and gave Connor a confused and angry frown because he didn't quite believe it.

" _You_ want _me_ ta come join a scouting group."

"No, I wanna go shopping with ye. Of course, dumbarse. Before ye kill me with all your nagging all the time. I need a fucking break, alright. You and Daryl are so far up me arse I can practically fucking taste it. Jesus" he growled and then turned around to start walking. He then raised his pointer finger in the air to keep lecturing Murphy for a final time.

"And I swear ta fucking god, if shit goes wrong out there and ye blame me fer it and stop talking ta me again, 'm gonna drag yer arse all the way back t'Savannah voluntarily. We're gonna _try_."

For a moment Murphy just stood there and stared at his brother's back in disbelief. _Did that really just fucking happen?_ he thought and raised his eyebrows in surprise. He expected Connor to turn around and laugh at him, tell him that this was all a joke, _as if he'd ever give this stupid act up and actually let him be_. But all Connor did was keep walking with an annoyed "Are ye gonna stand there ferever? Glenn, Michonne 'n Sasha are waiting fer us!"

Murphy let out a surprised chuckle and then finally followed Connor, a smile on his face getting more and more noticeable.

 _Jesus. He owed Daryl one hell of a thank you._  
  
He couldn't believe it, but it seemed to have worked.   
Sure, he could already see the countless other problems and fights that were probably ahead of them, but still.

_Connor had actually given in._


	17. Gratitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loads more Connaryl. I hope I did alright, you know, still the first time writing stuff like that, blah blah, please be kind and don't expect too much. I hope you get the animal reference, it's gonna play a part in later chapters like in the episodes =) I'm probably going to write about the Murphy/Connor trip in the next chapter as some sort of flashback. I don't really know yet. In my book nothing much is supposed to happen there apart from the stuff Connor mentioned in this chapter here. Just getting to the interstate, checking things out, finding the scenario Connor described and then nothing much.
> 
> We're leaving the Connor/Murphy/Daryl bitchiness topic now. More or less. Be prepared for more zombie killing action, schemes and blood in later chapters! I just got a few more "relaxed" and "shiny" Woodbury moments with blossoming Connaryl and Conphy(brother relationship) up my sleeve before this. I hope it's not getting boring, but I really wanted to establish some more positive stuff first, because I've never really done this before. I wanna show how much is going to go to shit later :D Anyway enough talk, enjoy some Connaryl.

Just like a couple of days ago he just looked outside his window and watched half the town 'celebrate' and talk outside, during their little barbeque. There certainly wasn't too much going on this time, but they were still making do. Everyone needed a break, considering all the things they had done and achieved today. They were sitting on benches, talking to each other, waiting for the food to get served. People were smiling, there was a small campfire, he even believed to hear some music and the happy laughter of children. Woodbury was on the right path. It was getting safer around here. Safer and more homelike.

The scouting mission around the rest of their town had been a success. Most of the traps were set up, old broken down cars had been moved and strategically placed, possible locations for dividing walls and further traps had been located and marked. He was also sure that the other group had been doing just fine out there as well. Of course they had. Both those two Irish clowns had been with them. Immune, good fighters, capable scouts.

Daryl was still pretty torn, but it wasn't like he could change anything about that now. On the one hand he had really wanted to go work with Connor. He already missed their trips together, missed being with the Irishman, although they had just been out there yesterday. He was jealous of Murphy, of anyone else who could spend time with the leprechaun when he wasn't there.

On the other hand he was also pretty glad that he hadn't been there with them on this mission. He didn't fancy seeing these two idiot brothers together, he didn't want to see how they got closer and closer again. He still remembered all the things Connor had told him about his relationship with his brother back then, how inseparable they had been, how they had always been together, how they had been one person trapped in two bodies, what a good team they had been. He didn't want to see how they got back to that.

He let out a gentle sigh and walked away from the window.

Always the same bullshit. How much he wished that they had never gone to Augusta.   
This way, Murphy never would've come here. This way, maybe nothing would've changed at all.   
Not even this stupid fucked up friendship he shared with Connor.

But it had all happened.

He walked to his cupboard to get changed, since his shirt was too bloody, too sweaty and too dirty from all the work he had done today. Not only had it been pretty fucking exhausting moving all the cars and putting up all the traps, he had also rounded up his day just like he always did whenever he could. Go on a quick hunt down in the woods, to bring food back home just like he always did because a town of more than 40 people wasn't going to feed itself. Especially since they still weren't self-sufficient yet. They couldn't live on canned goods forever.

He had caught another decent and large deer out there.

His kind of stress relief and little success and confidence booster.

But now he was already back to this again. Isolated. Alone. Inside this apartment that still did not suit his former way of living. This whole town and community turned more and more into a mirror image of the ones he had never belonged to. Although he liked it here he felt more and more excluded, no matter how much the group really appreciated him and tried to include him. But all he knew was trailer parks, biker gangs, real rednecks. No small town communities with white fences and cut grass, clean hedges and middle class family cars or barbeques. It was too foreign and triggered his usual reaction by default. Isolation.

He sat down on his bed and moved his hand through his hair, considering what he should do. He had a couple of options, actually. Go down there and 'celebrate' with the others. Be there when Andrea, Sasha and the others from the council told the rest of the town about their future plans. Get used to it, this new life. He could also go down there, see if he could find Carol or Rick.

He considered screwing Connor's request not to tell them. He didn't like being caught in the middle, and he didn't like keeping stuff from the others, because it only meant trouble and because it was getting them nowhere. He felt like he needed to tell Rick and the others about everything now, after having kept the fact from them that back in Atlanta he and Merle had only joined them to steal stuff from them behind their backs. He wasn't that kind of person anymore.

He also thought that maybe he should go down there and see if he could find Bob, the lonely stranger he had found and brought back with him. The guy was probably just as lonely as him, and maybe that-...The hunter raised his head when he heard a knock on his door. He frowned a bit and waited, but then there it was again.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Daryl sighed and got up to head for the door. He had seen Glenn and Michonne down there, which meant that the other scouting group had returned by now. Which only meant one of the two scenarios. This was either Connor or Murphy knocking on his door. Or Carol or any of the others that were probably trying to get him down there with them. He frowned even more and gritted his teeth a bit.

That better not be the…

He opened the door and rolled his eyes a bit when he was greeted by a bright grin and two bottles of alcohol.

"This is yer party service calling. We're requesting immediate assistance at te party front. Did I already mention te party that's going on without ye down there?" Connor greeted him and Daryl pressed out an angry, muffled sigh. He turned around and walked back in the direction of his cupboard and window.

"Yah calling this a party? More like midlife crisis club of whiny people who don't know nothing and like t'congratulate each other on that. Next thing they're gonna do is play golf" he muttered and Connor entered his apartment without invitation and closed the door behind himself.

"Seriously, te fuck are ye doing up here? Yer never joining any festivities, no wonder ye got no fucking friends or girlfriend."

Daryl turned around to give his friend an angry frown.

"Didcha just come up here t'annoy me again? Cos I ain't got time for this crap today. I spent the whole afternoon dragging shit around and 'm tired, alright."

He even walked over to his bed and then lay down on it to stress this fact. He shielded his eyes with his dirty lower arm for a moment and then finally looked at Connor again when he noticed that his friend wouldn't say anything and just stood there. He finally noticed the black and blue bruise on his friend's forehead and frowned with a snort.

"What'd they do t'yah out there? Punch yah in your face cos someone else finally understood that you're goddamn annoying?"

Connor snorted and finally shifted. He sat down on Daryl's bed, once again without invitation, and carefully felt the bump on his head, which pulsated and still hurt a bit.

"Harhar. Very funny. No. That's what you get fer saving people from a fuckin herd."

Daryl raised an eyebrow and tugged both his arms under his head to lie in a better position.

"Where? The interstate?"

Connor suddenly lay down next to his friend as well, without asking him. He let out a sigh and just stared at the ceiling, obviously pretty exhausted as well. Daryl turned his head and looked at his friend, because he was a bit confused by this behavior. It wasn't like this was the first time Connor was lying next to him, sharing a bed, couch, cell, apartment or tent with him. It sure wasn't the first time they were close to each other like that, but it was still a bit weird and surprising to him that it seemed to be so natural to his friend to seek company like that, to initiate closeness. Especially since the thing with Murphy seemed to have been resolved today.

Connor shook his head.

"Nah. We was on our way back when we heard gunshots across that field. Turns out there was this wee little farmhouse. Old man. Two kids. And a shitton 'a walkers. Me, Murph and the others decided ta help out, close combat and all that. Trouble was, fucker thought I was one of them walkers when I was just about done. Ye know the drill, covered in blood from te fight, none of the walkers attacking me. Thank fuckin god he didn't have any rounds left in tha shotgun. He just clogged me right in my fucking face" the Irishman said and then chuckled.

He rubbed his forehead yet again and then smirked at Daryl, who scanned his face a little more to check if everything was alright with his friend. The thought that some old fuck could've shot him right in his face with a shotgun certainly didn't sit right with him. It made him angry, not just with the old fucker but also with himself now, because he hadn't joined this run and stopped this all from happening. He was still incredibly possessive of Connor, and he still hated it when someone dared to touch him. But he just snorted and looked at the ceiling again, trying really hard not to smirk although he totally felt like it.

"Serves yah right"

It just made it even harder not to smirk. He wanted to smirk because yeah, it certainly served Connor right after being so goddamn annoying for the past couple of days, but at the same time he wanted to smirk because once again he was actually quite happy that he wasn't alone right now, that Connor was keeping him company. He was slowly but oh so carefully getting used to the idea that maybe Murphy being there wouldn't change too much about their friendship. Because this was day three now but Connor had always come to him sooner or later, most of the time later but still. He was obviously trying to spend time with the both of them.

The Irishman didn't seem to notice his mood change, he just kept talking.

"But, believe it or not, he gave us two pigs and a horse as thanks. Two pigs _and_ a horse."

Daryl frowned and looked at him again.

"What?"

Connor looked at him as well and nodded.

"Aye. He got quite te farm there. Like Hershel with te cattle? But he got pigs 'n shit. Not too few, actually. I wonder how he kept tha farm going fer that long with just those two teenaged boys. He wouldn't say much, just kept thanking us fer helping him and cursing ta high heavens cos these walkers seem ta have besieged them fer a couple of days now. It sounded like this was the first herd they encountered. But he was all redneck about it."

Daryl turned around a bit so he could face his friend better.

"Didcha offer t'take the guy in? One old man and two kids, don't sound too safe."

Connor nodded.

"Aye. We did. But he insisted that they're doing just fine. I dunno. Murph suggested that we should probably pay them a visit a few times, see if we can persuade them ta come along. Not just to offer them a safe place ta stay, but also because we could probably use the livestock? Rick'n I talked about this. We should go full on agriculture here, man. They looked well fed over there."

Daryl nodded and looked at the ceiling again.

"Yeah."

There was silence for a moment, then Daryl raised his head a bit as he tried to look out of the window.

"Where'd yah put the horse and pigs?"

"The old arena they tried ta kill ye in a couple of months ago. And Rick 'n Murph wanna keep te pigs close to their garden thing. They're gonna go full McDonald sooner or later. Hershel's pretty excited as well" Connor said and chuckled yet again. He couldn't quite explain it, but he was suddenly so happy. He was full of adrenaline from the fight out there, and although that one had been pretty dangerous it had been such a relief.

Everything around them was slowly falling into place, it seemed to be getting better each day. Not just for Woodbury, but also for him, Murphy and Daryl. He had actually enjoyed going out there with his brother. To be a team again. He thought about all the possibilities now, all the things he could get back. Farm life and farming like back in Ireland. Him and Murphy being a team again.   
  
They were even still working with the police, a leader. A group of friends and helpers. Rick was their Smecker now. Hershel reminded him of their old man. And now all he needed to do was get Daryl to stop being so grumpy. To become his and Murphy's sidekick. Like Rocco back then, like Romeo. He was slowly getting everything back. A tripple team. His brother. A best friend. A liveable, more comfortable life. No more depression. Less and less problems. Everything was going to be fine. He just knew it.

And now he enjoyed being here with his friend without any drama for once, no fighting. Less and less pushing. He liked that Daryl was smirking now and seemed to be all relaxed despite the little strained greeting earlier. He liked how they were just lying here, and getting used to actually being kind to each other more and more, he liked how the others were doing just fine out there as well. Even celebrating a bit.

It felt good to know that Murphy was down there as well and having some fun with other people, that everything had gone rather well out there today. He liked the agreement he and Murphy had come to during that trip. Yeah. He was just happy now.

"Speaking of Murph" he muttered and then turned his head after a while to look at Daryl with an honest smile.

"Thanks."

Daryl turned his head as well and frowned.

"For what?"

"Fer going out there with 'im. Making that deal and talking ta me about it. I know ye can't stand him.   
So really. It actually helped me. Or me and Murph ta be precise. Thanks."

The hunter just looked at his friend for a while. It made him happy to hear that. He was used to hearing this from Connor by now. The thanks. The gratitude. He knew very well that he was the giver in their friendship. He was aware of all the things he had ever done for his friend. Out of loyalty. Out of respect. Because of the affection, both friendly and slightly romantic by now (and fuck everyone who ever caught up on that, he was going to fucking murder anyone who even dared to ask him about that, and that _included_ Connor).

It was in his nature to do all this for people. Fetch things, kill things, get things, be their puppet, their doormat. And although he was aware of it, although he knew that Connor owed him a thank you and that he deserved words of gratitude, even with all that he still just couldn't handle it, couldn't process a decent response. So he just shrugged and then looked away.

"Did nothing anyone else in this group wouldn' have done. Guy just happened t'come after me outta all people" he muttered and automatically tried to move away a bit, but Connor suddenly grabbed him by his arm to stop him.

"No. I mean it. Both me 'n Murph wouldn' be here in a walkerproof town if it weren't fer you."

Daryl just stared.

"So really. Thanks. A lot."

It was quiet for a while and they both just looked at each other, until Connor suddenly moved closer to Daryl's face.  
The hunter instantly flinched away a bit and Connor kept doing that a second longer until he started laughing.

"Every fuckin time, man" he cackled and moved away with a massive grin yet again because he was obviously pleased with himself. He loved how Daryl always fell for the same stupid trick, how he could always have him on and freak him out so easily. He was in a good mood, which made him the jokester by default. "I mean…do ye really think 'm so fuckin cheesy? Jesus, I was just makin fun of ye cos this whole situation is pretty fuckin.." he still kept chuckling and justified this dickish move, but then his day suddenly took a downturn.

Because then it was Daryl who crossed this border out of nowhere, pupils blown, angry look on his face. He crossed the small distance between them and almost forced himself onto his friend. Connor expected a fight or an attempted punch because this was Daryl's natural reaction to jokes like that, but what the hunter did instead, was shut him up with an angry kiss. Because he was furious with the Irishman yet again, because he was such a fucking dick, because he was so annoying, because he wouldn't shut up, because he had teased something like this only to leave it be.

But the Daryl wasn't in the mood for that today. Fuck no. After the pushing away, giving in, letting Murphy take over a part he'd had in Connor's life until now and after not seeing this stupid asshole almost all day he did not tolerate any of this stopping there right now. Fuck yeah the Irishman owed him a thank you, fuck yeah he owed him gratitude, attention, a fair share of time. So he took it, and that with force.

Because only god knew when he got the next opportunity to do this shit, to be with the guy, now that Murphy was in the picture and that without a doubt. No, moments like this were probably going to get rare, and it was one of them days where he just felt lonely and empty after visiting Merle's grave, after seeing everyone get a life again, so he needed to get this done.

He knew it was a stupid move. They'd just fucked yesterday. And two nights before that. And another night before that. It was getting too frequent already, and although this crept him out a bit he still didn't care. He'd gone years without this. Always alone, always too afraid and freaked out to go down that road and now this. Guy or not. He'd gotten desperate over the years, and he finally wanted more now. And Connor had summed it up rather nicely yesterday. Win-Win.

Daryl only interrupted the heated kiss once to catch breath. Connor wanted to use the time to say something, but then the other man suddenly placed a strong hand on his throat and gave it a warning squeeze to kill the words before they got out.

"Shut up. Yah talked enough bullshit today" he warned, voice nothing but a low growl because he was already aroused. Connor gave him an angry glare and coughed a bit, fighting the grip. For just a moment Daryl thought about squeezing harder, to hurt, ( _he didn't want to admit it, but it actually turned him on a bit? what the fuck?_ ) but then he just let go and glared back at Connor, a short staring contest and fight for dominance. But in the end arousal won. The hunter moved the hand that was still placed on his friend's throat further down his neck, gentler and almost tender this time, until it rested on the band-aid there, the one that covered the bite from yesterday.

He wanted to rip it off, give in to a pleased grin because he actually liked that it was there, his mark, his _property_ , but now that they were getting to the point yet again he was actually a bit too shy and awkward to really do any of that. Grinning was a sign of comfortable feelings, but he was far from comfortable. He just wanted to get it done.

So he really and properly moved on top of his friend and clung to him just like he always did, to make it almost impossible for the other to move and initiate gentle gestures of his own. Daryl also buried his face in his shoulder again to hide and muffle the more embarrassing sounds and then started to move his groin against Connor's thigh in a steady, forceful and abrupt rhythm just like the times before, the closest he could get to getting _intimate_ with someone.

It was better this time, at least he thought so, but he was also more desperate. He couldn't quite explain it. Now that he was slowly getting used to it he didn't mind it too much anymore. He wasn't busy trying to come to terms with it, he just did it, move his hip, move it in circles, thrust, faster, slower, desperate to cause enough friction.

He wished he could do a better job at this, wished that there was a way around this thing so he could make it the proper deal but of course, Connor would never stopped being a fucking guy and he would never stop being a fucking amateur loser at this. Part of him was aware that this was actually an improvement this time because, well, they had actually made it into a bed, but still. It didn't feel right and proper, and he just knew that it never would.

Daryl got so caught up in his sudden and constant movement and train of thoughts that he completely forgot about Connor, just for a moment. He just got caught up in his own little fucked up world, zoned out, longing for a connection but not finding one. Just for a moment it felt like he got lost in that dark hole in his chest, not the literal one, but the emotional one. Until Connor finally reacted to the suddenness of it all, and that accordingly.

He managed to free himself, wrapped his arms around him and then turned them around to the other side of the bed, where he wrestled Daryl into the mattress and then pinned him down.

"Hold yer fucking horses" he demanded, hair messy, determined look on his face that was hovering right above his own. "I'm not one of yer fuckin blow up dolls, alright" he then said, obviously offended by the way Daryl had manhandled him up until now without asking him or waiting for his approval. The hunter looked up in surprise, instantly offended by the rough interruption as well.

He understood what his friend was telling him, he knew that he got that shit completely wrong all the time. But he didn't know how to do it right, and the truth was that he didn't even _want_ to do it right. This wasn't supposed to be about something tender, like 'making love' or any of that crap. With a woman, he would do it differently. Of course he would. He didn't want to break them, hurt them or any of that. He hated domestic violence after all. For obvious reasons. But with Connor? Only being rough would make it right. Men were supposed to be like that around each other. Anything else would just make them weak pussies.

But he still hesitated and stared up at his friend, battling the rage, hatred, arousal and also…affection. Connor looked at him for a while, inhaling on Daryl's loud exhale until he thought to see some sort of readiness and approval. He then leaned down kiss the hunter again, a bit less aggressive but still angry. Only to do it again. And again. He tried to move a hand between them in the meantime and reached for the hunter's belt buckle. He instantly earned a warning glare and felt Daryl flinch away and break the kiss which made Connor sigh angrily.

"Don't" the hunter warned him and moved a hand between them as well.   
  
He grabbed Connor's wrist to stop him and the Irishman returned his glare with an angry look on his face.

"Ye wanna do this shit or not?"

Daryl just looked back at him and swallowed.

"Not like that again. That's just…"

"If ye say fuckin 'gay' one more time I'm gonna take tha fucking table lamp over there and shove it up yer fucking ass. Get a fuckin hold of the situation right here and don't act like a fuckin girl" Connor growled and kept eye contact for a little while longer until he just went ahead and successfully managed to open the hunter's belt and then trousers.

Daryl wanted to protest, wanted to buck his friend off and fight his hand, but the Irishman was too heavy, there wasn't enough space between their chest and then the attempt was instantly forgotten the moment Connor managed to reach inside his pants. He hissed, moved his head back and tried to jerk his hip away but of course, the struggle was useless. The older man gave him a slight smirk, wrapped his fingers around his member and moved and twisted his hand a couple of times, only to stop the touch, which made Daryl grunt and then glare at him.

"You mother…"

"Shut te fuck up and move yer fucking ass" Connor interrupted him and even pinched his belly hard, which made Daryl curse with an angry frown. He moved his hip up by default because he flinched at the harsh touch and tried to move away yet again. Connor used this opportunity and yanked his friend's pants down to make it easier for the both of them.

Maybe it was a bit awkward. It certainly wasn't the first time he was undressing someone to _sort of_ have sex with them. He'd done it lots of times before so he was used to it, but he wasn't fucking used to doing that and actually finding a package down there, too. It was weird. He knew it was wrong, and it took a –lot- of effort to keep his mind straight, to just see _Daryl_ and not someone else with that face, aka Murphy. His own fucking brother.

No. He needed to focus or else he was going to freak out, be grossed out and instantly kill the mood. But if there was one thing he'd always been good at then it was thinking and getting his head straight to get shit done, and the more he concentrated the more he had to admit that, well fuck it, that shit would be pretty erotic if weren't for that stupid dick between his friend's legs.

And since he was on the focus train, he decided to play head cinema as well. He took a deep breath to get used to this, and he was glad that Daryl certainly seemed to need the time as well. It was obvious that his friend was completely freaked out again, but at the same time he also seemed to be pretty torn. There was no question that he was aroused, that he also just seemed to want to get this going and _fuck,_ but still.

This was new, another step forward, and they both needed a moment to adjust. Connor swallowed and closed his eyes for a second, trying to concentrate, trying to remind himself of his previous sexual encounters and how un-awkward those had been. Nope, those had been good. He just had to picture it. The goal, the grand achievement they could reach as soon as they got through this. He'd done it. Multiple times before.

When he opened his eyes again he was calmer and more adult about the situation and just saw it the way it was. A deed that needed to be done. And since he was already on it, focus train and head cinema, he decided to fuck it and go ahead. He reached for his own belt and pants and started to get undressed as well, which Daryl certainly didn't seem to like. The hunter propped himself up on his elbows a bit and looked at his friend in disbelief.

"The fuck are yah doing?" he complained and instantly tried to call this off, because this was way beyond his comfort zone. Belts and half naked men that were older than him and wanted to get on top of him were a freaking fucking _no go._

"I said shut it" Connor just said again and quickly got rid of everything from the waist down so he could get back to it before his friend could manage to call this off. There was no way in hell he was going to stop now. He tried to get back to it and even started kissing the hunter's neck to calm him down, using his body weight to keep him in place, but of course, Daryl was completely freaking out over this sudden new change.

"I said I ain't gonna fuckin…just jack me off and get…"

Connor let out a loud, frustrated growl and then looked up because he was finally fed up with it. He was literally minutes away from either exploding down there or going completely limp again because Daryl _was such a fucking cockblock_.

"Alright, ye listen t'me right te fuck now" he growled and shifted until he could properly see Daryl. He even gave him the infamous ' _I'm done with your shit'_ finger. "Stop being so fucking selfish and stupid about this whole thing. In case nobody told ye, it's not very fuckin polite ta get a man all excited only ta deny him his fuckin release, and judging from the state of yer teeny dick down there I think ye know _exactly_ what 'm talking about when I say that I'm not gonna do that kinda shit one more fucking time with my dick trapped in my jeans like it's locked up in Fort Knox. That shit hurts cos it's like fucking sandpaper and ye know how it is with circulation and heat. I would like ta have kids one day, thank ye _very_ fucking much."

For just a moment Daryl had to look down on his friend. He couldn't help it. He was curious. _And fuck you, he wasn't comparing. Never._ It was just…a fucking dick. _Shit_ was that wrong. Before he could think too much about it and before Connor got the chance to notice he looked at him again, even angrier this time.

" _I'm_ selfish? Who's the one constantly whining about his fuckin feelings and…"

"I said shut it!" Connor warned him, louder this time, and used the thigh he'd been wanting to rub against his friend's manhood to actually thrust it up to cause some pain to force him to shut up. But of course. Daryl did the opposite. He lost it. Again.

"I'm gonna bash yah fuckin skull in!" he grunted and they started scuffling, throwing insults at each other and trying to be in the more dominant position until the mood finally changed between them, got heated again, until the shoving turned into thrusting and fluid motions of their hips against each other. Soon the grunted cursing at each other turned into heavy breathing and moans. Then the fight was fully over, and they began sleeping with each other.

They were very cautious _not_ to make it the real deal. Especially since they were properly naked this time. Neither of the two knew how this was supposed to work anyway, and the truth was that they _didn't want_ it to work. Because Connor's religious side absolutely forbid it, because Daryl's upbringing and abusive past would not allow it. They did not speak it out, they never talked about it and yet they had come to the silent agreement that this right here was going to be their thing. In the end they both lost their fight for dominance and ended up lying in a rather awkward position, both on their sides and trying to press the other on his back but both losing the constant fight and ultimately using it to cause more friction between them.

Daryl tried to be rough and energetic to hide his insecurity, inexperience and fear, Connor tried to be gentle to calm his friend and to trick himself into thinking that the hunter was just another woman he exchanged tenderness with. It was a compromise, and Daryl was actually really surprised to realize that he was more and more okay with that. He still buried his fingers in Connor's upper arm and maybe he tried to do it to leave bruises to still make it somewhat "manly" enough, but he was getting there, even when his friend awkwardly tried to tangle their legs to lock them in that position.

Fighting, even now.

Connor had wrapped a hand around him again and finally seemed to give in to his earlier orders, quickly moving his hand up and down to jerk him off like Daryl had told him to just do it earlier, which certainly was a nice contrast to his otherwise gentle and almost girly touching and stroking his back.

They both had eventually gotten rid of their shirts and Connor's rosary as well, because up here it was even worse than in any of the other places they had done this sort of thing before. Daryl's apartment was up top of this building, the very upper level, constantly heated up by the hot Georgian sun and the lack of air conditioning. It wasn't in the middle of the night, the sun was still up so this was another change. Then there was the bed, the sheets and their body heat, all the factors that made attempts to keep clothing during such a physical and intimate activity completely useless and stupid. It was simply too hot do keep going like that.

Apart from the fact that Daryl still thought that it was pretty fucking gay (Connor thought the same, but then again, the brain between his ears wasn't in charge right now so he didn't fucking care) the hunter also didn't like the lack of shirts because this meant that his scars were in the picture as well. Even worse. His friend was constantly touching them with all his rubbing and caressing, another reason why Daryl dug his fingers even harder in his upper arm to stop him.

He had given in by now, he was practically having sex, he had opened himself up enough to actually let somebody be close to him, but he still hated the touch itself.  
It still hurt, still burned, it still made him flinch and squirm and turn away. Tattoo that covered the scars up now or not.

It didn't take too long and Connor eventually seemed to get it. He stopped touching his back and feeling his scars and just placed his hand on Daryl's hip as he still continued to move his other hand to get him off. Daryl instantly relaxed again and allowed himself to stop watching every little movement with cautious, weary eyes. What he did instead was enjoy the remaining touch and move closer as well. He then got fixated on Connor's neck again, because not only the wet and stick band-aid which hardly held was an eye catcher, or the scar from the walker bite, but also because the tattoo was clearly visible there.

Connor wasn't as pale as Murphy so it didn't strike as much against his skin, but it was still there. Demanding attention, still branding him with his religious craziness. Daryl wanted to snort, but it ended up being an awkward muffled moan because he was getting damn freaking close. He then looked at Connor's neck tattoo again and shook his head a bit because this was so stupid.

A year ago he had spent mornings upon mornings looking at this thing, wondering what the hell that was about and who'd tattoo something like this in a spot like this. He still wanted to rip it off, bite it off, whatever it was, he was momentarily and totally fixated on it. He eventually moved really close, tried to shove Connor's leg between his to cause even more friction, more contact because he was desperate for a release.

Pretty soon he got to the kissing and less violent biting of his friend's neck again, and he was actually surprised to find out that it seemed to turn the Irishman on. Connor started shivering and jerked him off faster as he tried to move closer as well, even offering better access to his neck, but for him it was still pretty awkward. He was the one doing most of it, giving, touching, responding, and yet he hardly received anything but bites and a wet neck as thanks.

Which led to the other reason why he stopped caressing Daryl's back and hip. He tried to reach between them, to somewhat find release as well, when the hunter made the decision. He knew that he would never do anything like that if he weren't so freaking aroused right now, he'd never do it if his ears weren't ringing with his pulse and if his freaking balls weren't about to explode. But he was close and knew that his friend was close as well, and if he really had to be covered in disgusting come in a minute then he sure as hell wasn't to be covered in it because of a guy jerking off on him. No, if it to be like that, then all he would ever accept was himself as the cause.

He was a bit hesitant and (no he would never admit that, he was Daryl Dixon, he wasn't freaking…) shy at first, but then he just went ahead and reached between them, reaching for the Irishman's member. Connor jerked at the sudden touch and even looked at him in surprise for a moment, but then far more important urges took hold of him and he didn't have the time to keep looking. He just moved his hip more, into the hand, even groaning a bit _because damn, this felt fucking good._ He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been given a handjob.

Daryl was –really- freaked out at first and nearly wanted to stop right away because it was so weird. It wasn't like he didn't know what it felt like to be holding a dick. He knew the heat, the pulse, the feel of slick and sweaty skin, and yet it was completely new and freaky because it wasn't his own, because he couldn't feel what the touch did. All he could do was try what he knew he would like, imitating Connor's touch and spurring the Irishman on as well.

From then on it was easy, really. Easy, and totally a competition. They got more energetic, more frantic and started moving against each other a whole lot more again. Connor was really concentrating, eyes closed, the obvious thinker and determined 'head' of the whole idea, Daryl was just erratic, rough and still in hiding, constantly burying his face in either the pillow or the Irishman's neck, even biting it yet again but this time more cautious so he didn't leave marks.

He wasn't even prepared but then Connor suddenly let out a low growl and tensed as he came between them, shivering a bit and instantly stopping every movement, which just frustrated Daryl because he wasn't there yet. This really surprised him because he'd been the one to get touched most of the time, and although he was so freaking close there was just something that made it rather hard to follow, although he really wanted to. He didn't know if it was the awkwardness, the guilt, the still present homophobia or his shyness and frustration. Whatever it was, he wanted it gone.

Connor was still breathing heavily but slowly calming down. He had momentarily stopped touching him and just seemed to enjoy the after effects of his orgasm, and Daryl used his temporary weakness and defenselessness to finally be on top. He moved them around and then pressed himself on top of his friend. He started to move his hip as if he was sleeping with a woman, thrusting abruptly and fast against his thigh until he finally, finally reached that blissful state as well and came, his rhythm stuttering and getting either faster or slower. He tried not to be vocal about it, he just craned his neck a bit and stared at the wall in front of him, seeing hot and white stars, fists and fingers clenching and shaking until he was finally done as well.

Daryl even allowed himself to look at his friend right after that, really look him in the eye for a moment and initiated a short, tender gesture of his own where he moved his thumb across the bruise on his forehead, then he relaxed as well and collapsed on top of him.

"Oh fuck" Connor gasped as he tried to slow his heavy breathing down and shifted a bit, going right back to his gentle caressing of Daryl's back. The hunter nodded into his shoulder and just let out a grunt, which seemed to mean approval as he tried to calm down as well. He shifted a bit because he still didn't like the touch and it made him all twitchy.

Connor looked down on the two of them and frowned a bit in the meantime.

"'m sticky as fuck, why'd I have ta be the one who gets fucking come on all te time?" he complained and tried to clean himself up a bit, but it was impossible because his friend didn't give him enough space.

"Cos you're the faggy one outta the two of us" Daryl grunted and then successfully managed to heave himself off the other man.

"Fuck you" Connor muttered, relieved because the weight was gone and because he finally got the chance to clean himself up a bit with the hunter's sheets and a grumpy and disgusted "yikes."

"As a matter of fact I just did" Daryl said in regards to the previous comment and even allowed himself to actually grin at that.  
For just a moment he was too pleased with himself, too relaxed and sated to be grumpy or aggressive.

"As a matter of fact I did as well, you cocky asshole. Now stop making me gayer than I fuckin am. This goes both ways. Jesus."

"Whatever."

It was quiet after that, as the both of them just lay there, stared at the ceiling and cooled down. The truth was that Daryl still felt weird about it. This whole thing had been nice so far, very nice. But still. Nice and weird. It was especially so freaking weird because he seemed to be getting used to it a whole lot easier than expected. He couldn't fight it. All those countless years his surroundings, his family, his friends had taught him and drummed it into him that this was wrong, but it actually didn't feel wrong. It felt scaringly natural. And right now he even dared to admit that he was almost at peace.

He moved and shook his right foot a bit, left and right, left and right as he chewed on his lip and thought about it. All the sweat, dirt, spit and other bodily fluids were slowly drying on his heated body and made the air feel colder on his skin than it actually was. It even gave him goosebumps. The whole feel of this thing gave him goosebumps. The hunter thought about how much he wanted to have a cigarette, have a shower and just fall asleep right here, that's how comfortable he felt right now.

He waited for Connor to say something because he didn't know what to say after that, didn't want to say anything after that. The truth was also that he didn't even want his friend to say anything as well, he just wanted to relish the moment, enjoy his peace. Daryl did turn his head in Connor's direction when he felt the bed shake and move with him. The Irishman was half sitting on the bed by now, turned in the direction of the bedside table on his side to reach for the two bottles he had brought with him earlier. Daryl snorted and shook his head but then fixed his eyes on his friend's bare back, where the other massive, insane tattoo was staring back at him, the crucified figure of Jesus Christ.

Daryl rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked away because he didn't like the look on the guy's face.

"Yah tattoo's giving me the creeps. Nutter."

Connor chuckled as he leaned back and gave his friend one of the two old beer bottles.

"Fucker's judging ye" he answered with a smirk and then used his belt buckle to open his bottle.

Daryl snorted and did the same with his belt.

"You mean you" he answered and then grunted when it was a bit hard to get the cap off. "Where do yah get this shit all the time? Ain't that much booze around" he muttered and then took an expectant sip, really enjoying the taste of alcohol right after sex.

"'m Irish. Got it outta my magic leprechaun pot in exchange fer my gold nuggets, don't ye know nothing" Connor answered before his friend got the chance to bother him with stereotypes yet again. Daryl allowed himself to smirk and Connor smirked back at him as they both took sips on their bottles, but the Irishman wouldn't break eye contact. So Daryl did. He turned his head and looked away, still a bit embarrassed and helpless about the whole thing.

"What?" he asked after a while of just drinking and Connor examining him.

Connor shrugged and looked away, taking another sip.

"Nothing. Just….Did ye really sleep with just one woman in yer life? Or more? Ye never really told me, didn't do it on the farm, never did it ever since. Just got me wondering."

Daryl glared at him for a moment, only to look away and drink some more beer. Just like the many times before he still wouldn't really answer.

"Why, yah gonna call me a fuckin virgin again?"

"No, 'm not joking this time, alright. 'm serious. Just got the impression that ye really wanna but never actually...well."

Daryl remained silent and Connor kept looking at him, eyes traveling lower. Daryl had been pretty eager to cover himself up again right after their little escalated fight but he could still see his naked chest, the countless scars that shredded his entire upper body, his sides, his belly. The scars from a belt or a knife, the scar from the gunshot the Governor had fired right at his chest. Much in contrast to his back there were no tattoos covering them up, they were clearly visible, almost purple, dark and sinister against his pale chest, especially now that all their sweat had washed some of the dirt away. Daryl was really _shredded_ with scars.

"Is it cos of yer Da?" Connor asked and then even tried to reach out and place his flat hand on the hunter's chest, maybe trying to make it better, to make it easier. "Yer scars and stuff?" he added quietly wanted to mentally slap himself. _Of course it had to be about that. He couldn't even imagine the trauma that had to be connected to this kind of fucked up shit_. But he thought that maybe this was a good time to bring it up since Daryl was more open about everything right now.

He wasn't exactly surprised when his friend instantly pulled an angry grimace and moved away though.

"Stop" he demanded and then looked at Connor, the warmth and happiness instantly gone and replaced with an earnest look on his face. "We're just fuckin, alright" he growled and raised up all the barriers yet again. "And we're a team. But I ain't gotta tell you shit and it ain't none of your business so you just stop right there. This ain't some girly slumber party" he said and then got off the bed with an exhausted but gentle sigh, pretty eager to get away. He was tired, he didn't want to talk about it, and he didn't want to let his friend kill the mood even more.

"'m gonna get cleaned up" he muttered and then suddenly hesitated when he was standing in front of the bathroom door. He just stared at the wooden surface but wouldn't look at his friend who was still lying in his bed. "And yah better not fuckin leave without telling me again" he added and then finally entered the bathroom and closed the door shut behind him, closed the door shut on this kind of topic.


	18. Photo

_**A couple of hours earlier….** _

"Y'know what? Why don't we make a little detour?"

Murphy turned his head and looked at his brother, a frown soon crossing his forehead.

"What, now?" he mumbled and turned his head to look at the trailer behind their car.   
"With te horse?"

They had split up after their little encounter at the farm with the old man and those two teenagers. Glenn, Michonne and Sasha were with their other car, taking the two pigs with them whereas Connor and Murphy had decided to take the horse with the trailer they had also received from the farmer. The guy had been beyond grateful. Maybe a bit creepy and easy on the trigger, but still grateful and kind.

Murphy still wondered how the old man had managed to keep his farm going for so long, with the animals, with the kids. Maybe the animals had looked a tiny bit skinny, but the owners of the farm had looked far from skinny _. Jesus. They had almost been killed, the three of them. Just like that_. Murphy felt a bit guilty about leaving them behind and still getting presents from them. The old man had insisted that they wanted to stay, but still….

Connor shrugged and smiled.

"Aye. Don't worry. She's gonna be fine. Just a small detour, really."

Murphy snorted and turned his head to look out of the window, but he wouldn't say anything. Connor knew this sort of behavior, how his twin would just shake his head, try to keep a comment in although it was totally obvious that he wanted to say something.

"What is it? Come on, don't gimme that shit, Murph" Connor said with a tiny smile and even elbowed his sibling in his upper arm.

Murphy grumbled and then shrugged.

"Well it's just… it's just fuckin weird. First yer locking me in tha apartment of yers, then yer trying ta get me inta fucking gardening just so I don' go out here and the next thing ye do is drag me along fer a detour?"

Connor pressed his lips together and looked away, just keeping quiet for a while until he finally spoke it out.

"I know tha I've been acting like a fuckin obsessed chick lately…."

Murphy snorted.

"Aye, no shit."

"….and I know 's hard fer you ta trust me after….well…Just..oh fuck, forget it, Murph."

Murphy turned his head and looked at his brother for a while, trying to read him, to understand him. He could understand bits and pieces, because this weird connection thing of theirs seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. He just knew that this was about something important, that this had to be about something that mattered to Connor, that this wasn't him playing some tricks again or shit like that.

The younger MacManus swallowed a bit and chewed on his upper lip. Once again he really wished he could just remember everything again. Everything about Connor, their relationship, their habits, their inside jokes and codes. Anything that would've made it easier to understand his brother now, to help him understand this whole thing. But he couldn't.

He let out a sigh, looked out of the window again and picked his nails.

"I trust ye" he muttered after a while, although it was kind of hard to admit.

Connor turned his head and looked at him, and for a moment Murphy looked back at him. It was true. This day had made it even more obvious. Their relationship was getting better each day. And this trip had certainly helped a lot. It meant very much to the younger MacManus, that his brother had really given in and taken him out here. Connor eventually smiled and concentrated on the road again. Murphy gave his sibling a tiny smile as well and then proceeded to look out of the window to his right once more.

* * *

They were lying on the front of their car, backs leaned against the front screen, legs slightly cocked and feet rested against the hood. Both MacManus twins were enjoying their smokes and just had a look around, still trying to get used to this new thing. They could see the walkers staggering around the area below them, still pretty far away. Only the occasional kick or grumbling of the horse in the trailer behind them reminded them of the fact that they needed to go back home eventually.

But right now they just enjoyed the silence, the sun, and Connor enjoyed the sad familiarity of this place that had once been his home before Woodbury. He let his gaze wander, across the fences, the towers, the abandoned cell blocks. Murphy just lay there beside him, in the shadow of the tree they were parking underneath. The younger twin watched the leaves dance in the wind, a tiny smirk on his face because he enjoyed the freedom of it all, the silence, his brother's company.

They were far enough from the prison, parking by the side of the road on top of a hill that overlooked the surrounding area, a part where there were no walkers, no alive people, no nothing. Just the two of them. Connor didn't quite know yet, why he had decided to stop right here and actually show his brother the prison. Maybe seeing the rosary around his neck had made him do it. Maybe the whole knowing that Daryl had come back here just two days ago had made him want to come back here as well.

"I buried ye down there" he suddenly said, a little sad smile on his face as he kept looking at the prison, the fences, the walkers, the hill with the whole bunch of crosses that marked the graves of their loved ones. Lori. T-Dog. The prisoners that had become their friends. Murphy looked up and scratched his nose, staring in the same direction. Connor smirked a little more and even allowed himself to chuckle.

"I even made this big fuckin speech and all. I had yer knife, yer rosary,…a picture of us, 't was all down there."

Murphy then studied his sibling's profile. This whole thing with the prison, Connor's past here, the crosses...everything made it harder and harder not to forgive Connor. Every now and then he was still a bit intimidated by his own brother, he still dreamed about the day he'd been shot by him every single night, but it was getting more and more obvious how truly sorry Connor really was. How much he had obviously mourned his 'death'. And for the first time he actually didn't want to make the blonde feel guilty and punish him for all the things he did wrong all the time, no this time he actually _felt_ guilty.

"'m sorry" was all he could say, which made Connor snort once more.

"Yer not the one who screwed this whole thing up, Murph. I fucked up, not you."

Murphy leaned back and stared at the leaves and sky again, tugging one arm under his head while bringing the cigarette in his other hand back to his mouth.

"We _both_ fucked up, Connor" he mumbled and then blew out some smoke. "I was too schtupid ta fight the walker before he managed ta bite me after all."

"Cos I wasn't there ta watch yer ass" Connor just answered and Murphy rolled his eyes, already a bit annoyed by his sibling's never ending self-pity.

"Can we make a deal, Murph?" the older twin asked after a while and then looked at his sibling, who nodded with a curious frown.

"Aye?"

Connor kept looking at him for a while.

"I know it wasn't right ta do all this shit in Woodbury. Trying ta forbid ye shit and all that stuff. But I was just trying ta protect you. Ye know I don' wanna lose ye again…..And I actually took ye out here fer a reason."

Murphy tried not to roll his eyes at his brother's fussing over him. He just kept looking at him and waited for the deal he'd been talking about.

"Please don't go out here on yer own. Going solo just gets people killed. Ye just saw how dangerous it still is. You went down tha street in Boston on yer own and got bit. When our group got separated inside this place down there we lost two people. And when I left this place and entered Woodbury on me own I got bit, Daryl's brother left this place on his own and he died, and when Daryl tried ta kill the Governor on his own he got shot. Just…let's make a deal. If ye ever feel like leaving Woodbury, or any other place, if it's just fer a day or forever, I'm fine with it. I saw it today. Ye can handle yerself just fine out here. In the end I've always known tha anyway. Just….please tell me whenever ye wanna leave and we're gonna do it all together. Don't go anywhere on yer own. Cos I don't wanna be standing in front of a cross like that ever again. Deal?"

Murphy looked back at Connor for a while, taking another drag on his cigarette, contemplating this. He saw the graves on the hill down by the prison, saw all the walkers that had long since overrun the place, he even remembered the grave he'd seen earlier today, the grave that had belonged to Daryl's brother. He finally gave Connor a nod.

"Deal."

Connor smiled and nodded back.

"Deal."

Murphy frowned a little after a while and pointed his tattooed finger at his twin.

"And yer part of the deal is not jus ta listen to yer fucking girlfriend but myself as well, ye fockin dickhead."

Connor laughed in surprise.

"What?!"

"Don' think 'm stupid. I tell yer the same shit fer days and ye won't listen ta me, but the moment I ask yer fucking girlfriend ta tell ye you instantly listen to the fuckin redneck and leave town with me as if nothing ever happened. Next time I'm asking ye ta trust me and let me do shit, actually listen ta me and don' make me go t'this asshole all the time."

"'m fuckin not."

"'f course you are."

"'m not."

"Fuck you, yes you are."

" 'm fuckin not, alright? And he ain't my girlfriend. He's just fuckin Daryl. Now shut up and smoke yer fuckin cigarette."

Murphy boxed Connor's upper arm and the Irishman rubbed it with an angry frown, only to finally give in to a tiny smirk which his brother returned. The older of the two proceeded to move his hand up after a while so he could scratch his shoulder, the one with the band-aid and scar. Murphy noticed the former first but then concentrated on the latter, only to imitate the scratching because his own scar suddenly itched as well. He looked at the prison in the meantime. When he remembered all the things Connor had just told him about he let out a gentle sigh.

"Do ye ever think 'bout what would've happened if I never got bit?" he suddenly asked, scratching the scar on his forehead and then quickly looking away. He still felt a bit guilty about that as well. They had hurt each other that day, simply because of one bite. He'd thought about this since the day he had found his brother again. If he hadn't been bit that day then Connor never would've shot him, Connor never would've left Boston on his own. Maybe then he never would've found this place right here, there would've been no second bite, no trying to kill himself, no manhunt in Augusta and Savannah, no nothing.

The look on Connor's face turned into a sad smile.

"Aye, 'f course. We basically started out in a place just like tha after all" he just said and pointed at the prison once more, remembering the Hoag, remembering the very early signs of this disease which had turned up on the news even before they had managed to break out of prison. But he wouldn't speak any of the following out.

Of course he'd thought about this. Hundreds and thousands of times during the first couple of months after 'losing' Murphy. He had tried to picture it, even hallucinated it. He had tried to imagine them surviving together, with their guns, the Saints of South Boston. Fighting evil even when the world had gone to shit. Killing walkers together, delivering their souls to god, taking out cannibals, rapists and bandits, helping fellow survivors in need.

He'd pictured them going down together one day, firing a hail of bullets at the endless crowds of walkers which would've devoured the both of them in the end. Dying, at the same time, side by side, on the same day. Their relationship never would've gotten fucked up, there never would've been any guilt, any memory loss, any pain. He knew that they would've been a two man group. Traveling all the way from Boston to San Francisco, checking out all the places in America they had always wanted to see but had been too poor to afford to go to.

And here they were now, strained relationship, complicated, painful past experiences, Murphy's memory loss, bitten, immune, ridden with survivor's guilt. They could still do all of that now. Probably. Take this car, this horse, the stuff they had picked up and just leave. Head for the far west. Kill baddies and all that shit. They didn't have to fear the walkers anymore. They could continue their job and rid the world of evil. Live happily ever after. Just the two of them.

But Connor didn't want that anymore.

Because his life had changed. It didn't just revolve around Murphy anymore. He loved his sibling to death, of course he wanted to spend the rest of his life together with him. His twin brother, the other half of his soul, the person he loved the most in this world. But he didn't want to live in this world with him alone. Before all this, before this place right here the whole idea of the two men team, the MacManus brothers - traveling destroyed America together, had been enough. But not anymore. It would be far from enough.

No matter how much it hurt admitting that, no matter how much he hated himself for thinking that way, he couldn't stop himself from seeing it like that. He didn't want to undo any of it now. He was beyond sorry for the headshot, for all the things Murphy had gone through because of him, but only because of all this he had been able to meet Daryl. To get to know him. To become his friend, to actually have his first best friend apart from Murphy. Only because of all this he had found another person that truly mattered to him, who could fill the holes that Murphy had never been able to fill, even before the headshot.

Murphy not getting shot would've resulted in a lonely two men team. The constant suffocating fear of losing Murphy and being on his own, the even more impossible weight of being the older, protective brother who always gave, always led the way, always protected. This simply wasn't enough anymore. No matter how bad he really felt about this.

He knew that they never would've made their way down here, to Georgia, to that one church in that one very second when Daryl had burst through that door and found him. They never would've met. He never would've gone to the farm, he never would've stumbled upon the prison down there, and he never would've found Woodbury. So no. No undoing any of it. No undoing any of the moments he had experienced down there, in this now abandoned prison. He needed this stupid redneck called Daryl Dixon in his life. He didn't want to be without him anymore.

"I'm just glad I got ye back anyway" he finished his inner monologue and spoke that thought out, because it was true.

Murphy looked at Connor and nodded after a moment.

"Aye. Me, too."

And there it was again, the happy, relieved smile which made Murphy smile back by default. And Connor suddenly remembered. The prison, the burned picture whose ashes had long since disappeared from here. The picture, with that same smile, that same happy person.

"Y'know what…" he said, slid down the hood of the car and the walked over to the door to open it and pull out his 'emergency bag', the one he always carried around with him, no matter where he went. Murphy eventually shifted as well and started to move down the hood of the car to see what was going on.

"What?"

Connor rummaged through his bag a little more until he finally found the black piece of plastic which he had ''burrowed' from the Big Spot a couple of days ago. "Aha!" he exclaimed and then turned around with an amused smile on his face, polaroid camera in his left hand. Murphy looked at the thing in his hand with a sceptic frown.

"The fuck is that" he mumbled, not really liking where this was going now.

"'s a fuckin camera, what are ye, blind?"

Murphy gave his sibling an angry frown at that, kind of offended by this one because yes, he happened to have bad sight on his right eye.  
Connor instantly pressed his lips together and then looked down, at the camera, realizing his mistake.

"Sorry."

He had killed his own mood right then and there, coming to the conclusion that it was probably a fucking stupid idea anyway. His brother had a large scar on his forehead, one that certainly seemed to make him feel uncomfortable. Of course he didn't want to have a picture taken of himself. Especially not after such a short of time of being together, when he probably wasn't even sure yet if he could really forgive him or if he should decide to hate forever for that shot. Connor kept working on the camera, still trying to set it up and get it ready but avoiding eye contact with his brother.

There was silence for a while, only the occasional breathing of their horse in the trailer or the walkers in the far distance interrupting it.  
Murphy just looked at Connor for a while, a bit grumpy at first but slowly getting less and less pissed because he actually kind of felt sorry for his brother.

"Alright. Take yer stupid fuckin picture" he gave in with an annoyed eyeroll, and Connor instantly went back to his crazy happy and excited smile.

"Fuck yeah, that's the spirit!" he cheered and instantly had a look around to search for a decent spot, only to come to the conclusion that they had found that one already anyway.

"Let's just get….hey!"

"Gimme tha fockin thing" Murphy had interrupted him in the meantime and grabbed the camera, only to take a closer look at it and just press the button, making it flash and then do the work with mechanical sounds. He waited for the picture to come out and then shook it a couple of times, now actually curious.

"How the fuck is tha even still working?" he asked, a bit confused by the lack of electricity, air conditioning and dry air. The camera had probably been exposed to moisture, the slightly cold winter and now hot summer, and yet here it was, still working, still taking pictures, even at least one year after the outbreak. Taking a picture of his dirty, bloody shoe. Ha.

Connor snatched the picture and shook it as well.

"It's one of those from the 80s or 90s. Good stuff, ye can probably bash a walker's skull in with it and still take pictures after that crap….Come on, get back up on te car" he ordered and even shoved Murphy a bit to get them back up. Murphy did as he was told, already way too used to Connor's commands again. Even without that, he was too busy fiddling about with the camera anyway. Connor followed him a minute later and then leaned back, against the front window, waiting for Murphy to raise the camera and point it right at them.

For a moment he actually had to think about how absurd this really was. Here they were, not too far away from the place where he had lost people, where there had been a war, where he had been through so much shit. A place that was now overrun by undead, disease-ridden people. And yet here they were, survivors, immune, fearless and actually carefree together, for the very first time, in a very long time.

For just a moment Connor even turned his head and looked at Murphy, watched his brother fiddle about with the camera, his fingers shaking a bit, a bit clumsy, but never still. It was so typically Murphy, how easily he was getting distracted by something shiny, something that made noise, something that did stuff. They might be 37 years old, but at heart, Murphy would always be young, and sometimes act like a kid. The very reason why Connor considered himself to be the older brother after all, the very reason why he was so protective of his sibling.

He knew it was slightly creepy, maybe even wrong to really pull this through and take a picture of them right here, right now. But somehow it felt important. Connor had dragged Murphy here for a reason. Not just to show him more from his past, to tell him about what he had buried down here, what he thought he'd left behind. No, he had also wanted to do this to just spend time with his brother.

Out here, on their own, just the two of them. Pretend a little. Make Murphy really understand that he trusted him, that he believed in him, that he loved him, that he wanted them to be a team again. Together. Out here. One unit. He had always been their driving force after all, the one who led the way. And he had led them here. An old place, for a new start.

The sudden flash of the camera startled him and made him stop looking at his twin.

"Oh come on, tha's bullshit. I wasn't even looking."

"Exactly, we don' want yer fuckface ta ruin the picture, do we?" Murphy said and then started to shake the picture again, although he didn't even have to. But of course, he was always impatient, always fidgety, and he really seemed to believe that he could actually speed the whole process up a little by doing that.

"Fuck you! 'm the handsome one outta the two of us!" Connor protested and tried to get the camera, which his brother held out of his reach with that cocky grin of his.

"Guess that's why yer getting all the _guys_ then, aren'tche."

The older twin gave his younger half an angry frown and then tried to snatch the camera again.  
And again.

"You mother…."

They both got in a little scuffle right then and there, on the hood of the car, rolling around to the left and right, to the point where they nearly fell off. Murphy kept annoying Connor by taking one picture after another in the meantime, the continuous flash interrupting their fight and only making it worse. There was kicking, there was shoving and grunting and throwing insults at each other but in the end it never turned into something aggressive and violent, especially since the younger MacManus soon lost interest and relaxed. In the end Connor won, just like the countless times in their childhood.

This was the one thing he was never willing to give up for Murphy. Every now and then he needed to have something of his own, to possess something which Murphy didn't get to have. Sometimes he didn't like sharing, sometimes he wanted to have something all to himself, one of the many reasons why he was unwilling to stop the thing with Daryl now after all.

Murphy was actually chuckling and smirking by now, obviously amused by the little fight.  
He was far more relaxed than usual, which certainly seemed to be a good sign.

"Ye wasted half me fuckin paper, man" Connor complained and took another look at the camera, trying to make sure it was still doing alright.

"Aye, and ye broke the camera with yer fuckin ugly face, too!" Murphy threw in and snickered once more, which earned him an annoyed slap to the side of his head.

But then they finally settled, and Connor managed to take one final picture. An almost normal one. Murphy had visually lost interest in their childish scuffling, calling each other names and ruining pictures. He had just lit up his second smoke and leaned back against the front pane with a little smile on his face, cigarette dancing around the corners of his mouth as he looked to the side and watched the walkers roam the field of the prison below.

Connor leaned back as well and stared at the picture in his hands, the one that was slowly coming to life and developing under the warm air. When it was fully developed he started smiling. The picture was slightly upsetting, but still a nice one. One that made him incredibly happy and sad at the same time.

The end of the world had left marks on the both of them. The scar on Connor's shoulder was visible because of the angle of his shirt, and he felt slightly uncomfortable because of the fact that he could also see the band-aid on his neck, the mark of the sins he kept committing in this new world. He also looked a bit skinny and tired, because they never got enough food and sleep these days anyway. Murphy looked just as tired and even skinnier, obviously having lived with far less food than him, at least up until now. And Connor was determined to change that.

One of the biggest problems about the picture was the most obvious one.  
The scar on Murphy's forehead, a constant reminder.

But none of that mattered, he could ignore all of this, simply because they were in it together. He smiled even more and just kept looking at the picture, which also was a sudden and kind of sad reminder of the countless nights he had spent staring at a picture just like this, a picture he'd held in his hands the night he had thought he was going to die from the fever, the bite on his arm and ultimately, a Daryl's bullet to his head.

"Show me" Murphy mumbled, the words slurred because of the cigarette in his mouth.

He snatched the picture without invitation anyway, and then just handed it back with a short "Huh."  
He didn't seem to like it too much. For obvious reasons. Connor took it back and looked at the picture once more, still smiling, still happy.  
He liked it. A lot.

"Thanks."

For a while he just kept staring at it and then all the other random pictures that had been taken during their fight until Murphy nudged Connor's arm on his way down the hood of the car.

"Come on, let's go back. Horse's gonna get a heat stroke in there otherwise."

Connor nodded and watched his brother jump off the car. Murphy was on his way to the passenger side when Connor spoke up.

"Murphy?" he asked and the younger MacManus looked up. Connor finally moved off the car as well and then walked around it to get closer to his brother, really eager to get an answer to the following question.

"Are we good?"

Murphy instinctively took a step back. It was still in his guts to be a bit afraid of his brother after everything that happened, and Connor immediately gave him more space.  
The younger Irishman chewed on his lip for a moment and then shrugged with a tiny smile.

"'f course, ye dumbarse" he almost whispered and was actually surprised when he felt the sudden need to cross the distance between them and actually hug Connor on his own. His sibling even huffed a bit and was obviously surprised by it but then immediately hugged back and actually clung to him. He didn't know if their surroundings, the picture, this prison and all the memories connected to it triggered all these emotions, but he just clung even tighter to his brother, buried his face in his neck and hair and even dared to kiss it.

"I missed ye so much Murph, you don' even fuckin know" he mumbled, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by everything. All these months without his brother, the nights he had spent staring at the previous picture, the fuckin pain in his chest, throat and eyes from bawling his stupid eyes out every single night, on the farm, sometimes even inside the prison below them. He remembered that final important moment, the day he had gone outside to stand in the yard, take the old picture and burn it. To say goodbye.

Only that he still didn't have to do it.

"I fuckin know" Murphy mumbled back and clung to his sibling just as much, his own thoughts and emotions rushing over him. He knew that the man in his arms belonged to him, that he was part of him, that their souls fit each other just as much as they fit into each others arms – perfectly. It felt so right to be so close again, to hold somebody, this somebody that was all his.

Everything just felt right and proper, but it just made him so mad, so angry and so upset that he just couldn't remember everything, no matter how hard he really wanted to. It made him so angry, knowing that he had put Connor through all this, and it was hard knowing that he hadn't just lost his memory that day but also this future, all those possibilities, the easiness of it all. But even with all that loss – Connor was right about it. He was just real fucking glad that they had found each other again. He had a brother, _his_ brother, Connor was right here, he wasn't alone, this was probably the only person in this world who didn't want to use him, kill him, trick him, hurt him.

For the first time in a very long time he felt safe, at peace, at home. And he knew that this was their second chance.

* * *

"Wow, fuck" Connor muttered, rested both his arms on the steering wheel and then leaned forward to get a better view.

Murphy did the same thing, looking slightly to the right, in the direction of the large field there, the field their street cut in half.

"Looks like tha old fella was lucky and only got part of the whole package" Murphy said and frowned.

"Let's hope there're no more strays from tha herd" Connor agreed and kept watching them.

There was a massive crowd of walkers in front of them, slightly to the right, staggering around the fields at a steady, clumsy pace. It had been a long while since he had last seen such a massive herd. It seemed to be even bigger than the one they had encountered on the farm last year.

"D'ye think they're heading fer our town?" Murphy mumbled and rubbed his mouth nervously. He knew that he didn't really need to be afraid of this massive herd, no walkers would attack the both of them after all. But still, he didn't want to picture what could happen if such a large herd decided to pile up on their walls with all those people inside, people who weren't immune and could get attacked. He knew that those were too many. Even if he and Connor were immune, there was no taking that many walkers on.

"No, they're heading North, the exact opposite direction" Connor answered and wouldn't speak his last thought out. _Let's hope it stays that way._

"Fuck" Murphy mumbled as he examined the walkers a little closer.   
"How are they even doing that? Just, forming such a large crowd and…keep walkin?"

Connor pressed his lips together and tried to make sense of it, tried to think about it. He remembered the bunch of days when he'd been either injured or just infected, all those moments when he had been surrounded by walkers and he'd….

"Hey, Murph" he said with a frown and kept looking at the herd. "Didye ever experience anything weird after the bite, whenever ye got close ta walkers?" he asked curiously, still feeling slightly crept out and even a bit embarrassed by it. Murphy turned his head and looked back at him with a frown.

"Like wha?"

Connor finally looked at him as well. "Y'know…weird shit. Like, whispers, like they're…"

"….calling out fer ye? Asking fer help 'n food?" Murphy suddenly said and Connor hesitated, looking at his sibling for a very long while. He then nodded.

"Aye. Exactly."

Murphy nodded as well.

"Creepy shit, right."

"Aye" Connor agreed and then looked at the moving herd once more. "Maybe that's what it's about. Maybe they got some weird, fucked up sixth sense or something."

Murphy snorted.

"What, and just cos we got bit we got the same shit goin on? Don' be ridiculous. That's just stupid."

"Oh fuck you, it's a plausible explanation fer..fer strange happenings."

"Aye, sure."

The horse suddenly nickered behind them and kicked at the trailer door, which snapped them out of it.  
Connor looked at the herd a moment longer, making sure that they had not noticed it and then finally started driving again.

"Come on, let's go. Before they decide ta follow us back home."

* * *

The barbeque had already kind of started by the time they got back to Woodbury. They had a look around main street as they headed for the parking lot, Connor secretly looking for Daryl, and Murphy looking for Rick, Terry and the woman who had asked them about the tomatoes earlier. The older of the two MacManus twins was a bit disappointed that he couldn't see his friend anywhere. But others from the trapping group, people like Wendy, were already there as well so he figured that the hunter must've returned as well.

They parked the car close to the town hall but didn't even get to step outside because Glenn and Sasha already came running towards them to tell them that they were supposed to bring the horse to the former arena, a place big enough to keep their animals. They encountered Rick there, who was especially happy to see Murphy. Connor was busy trying to lead their horse out of the trailer as he watched them talk and discuss things, and since they kept pointing and looking at the pigs the older MacManus figured that this was probably about their latest farming ideas.

Connor instantly smiled when he saw this. Today had turned into one of the best days so far.  
He was happy. Murphy looked happy. Even Rick was smiling and looking better each day.  
He chuckled a bit when the horse suddenly bumped its head against his hip and blew out some air through its nostrils.

"I know fella" he said with a smile and then proceeded to stroke the horses neck for a bit. "D'ye like it here? Trust me, yer gonna like it here. A lot, actually. We all do."

He petted the animal some more and then finally looked back up again to look at his brother.

"Eh Murph" he called out and both Murphy and Rick looked up to face him. "I'm gonna go, see if I can find Daryl, aye?"

Murphy just nodded and waved him off, making it obvious that he was too busy talking anyway.

* * *

He just walked around town for a while, both his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, a slight smile on his face as he watched the others prepare a few tables and benches for their little barbeque to celebrate how the day had turned out. The younger MacManus felt a bit helpless at first since he still didn't really know any of these people too much, except for Rick, maybe. But they'd just talked a couple of minutes before and he didn't want to bother the former cop any longer, especially now that he was running around with his two kids anyway.

So he just kept walking, up and down main street, watching the others and what they were doing, climbing up a wall once just to make sure that there was no massive herd approaching them. But the streets around Woodbury were clear, he knew that that one group had placed more traps today, and he really hoped that the herd would never get here.

He was on his way back down when he suddenly saw Terry by the supply storage, obviously more than busy with all the food people wanted to eat today. Murphy hopped off the wall and stared in the general direction of the barbeque, looking for Connor but not finding him anywhere. He remembered that his twin had told him that he wanted to go look for Daryl. He couldn't see the hunter anywhere either and looked up at the houses, the one building he believed to be the hunter's home.

He figured that maybe Connor was up there and probably trying to get the stupid grumpy redneck down here as well, so he figured that maybe…..

The loud clattering of dishes and metal to his right startled him a bit, and a moment later he heard a loud "Fuck!" echo inside the supply building.

Murphy chewed on his lower lip and looked at the barbeque for the final time, and when he still couldn't see Connor he decided to just fuck it and go. He let out a gentle sigh and then headed for the building, entering it with a slight frown, wondering if he could help out a bit.

Terry was more than busy sorting and assigning stuff in there. There were two more men by the door, obviously waiting for the food to be delivered. The man in charge of their supplies was busy cursing and almost yelling when he suddenly caught glimpse of the Irishman, who was standing by the door as well.

"Hey you, Irish! Don't just stand there and help out, will yah?" he instantly roared and Murphy turned his head to look outside, still wondering where the fuck Connor was and really hoping that his brother couldn't see him right now.

"Come on, I ain't got all day, I got another deer t'skin and those fuckers already lit up the fuckin barbeque."

He then looked at the other two men and pointed at one of them.

"You, take Mary's salad and give it to allergy kiddo. You get Mike and tell him t'get his ass over here."

Murphy fully entered the supply storage and watched the man with the salad leave. He frowned a bit, looked at the cut tomatoes, wondering why the fuck Terry would have them here anyway. He remembered giving them to Mary herself after he had picked them. Once the other man had left as well Murphy took the apron, gave in and decided to give a hand since he was waiting for Connor and Daryl anyway. He snorted when he saw how stressed the other man really was.

"I thought yer just in charge of te meat, but now it looks like yer some sorta town chef" he muttered with a gentle chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. Terry started hacking at the deer with an annoyed grunt, and just for a moment Murphy looked at the large knife in his hands, remembering everything he'd heard earlier today.

_He lost his fuckin brother and now he's asking_ _my_ _fuckin brother fer help. Outta all people in this town, people he knows way longer than us, he's asking_ _you_ _fer help. Don't ye think this is a little strange?_

_What the fuck was he even doing here?_

"Yeah, make that general fucking dogsbody" Terry grunted and then suddenly moved the deer over to Murphy and handed him the bloody knife.

"Here you do that, considering it's your redneck lookalike friend who brought this one around. I got other shit to do" he said, wiped his nose and then walked over to the other side of the room. Murphy looked at the bloody animal in front of him and frowned in surprise.

"What?!"

"Relax. Ain't that hard, just do it the way I showed yah earlier. I'll be right back. Danny and the others just need help outside for a sec, 'm gonna send Mike in here t'help yah. Besides, you done this shit before, ain't you?" Terry said and then smirked at Murphy, who was still standing by the deer, knife in his hand, frown on his face.

"Hey, wait!" he called after the butcher but then he was already gone, obviously eager to get out of here for now. Murphy looked back at the bloody animal, wondering what the fuck had just happened, how he'd ended up in here all alone from one second to the next. _He'd just wanted to help, but this?_ He turned around again so that he was fully facing Daryl's catch, with yet another confused frown on his face. He wrinkled his nose a bit because the deer didn't exactly smell that pleasant. The younger MacManus figured that it were probably just its intestines. But still.

_He didn't know shit?_

"Fuck" he muttered and then tried to hack and cut a bit, just trying to think about what looked right and eatable. _Fuck Terry and his 'you done this shit before'. Yeah of course he'd probably done this sort of shit before. He just couldn't remember?_ And he was suddenly mad at Connor for running off and leaving him alone like that. If his stupid brother hadn't done this sort of thing, he wouldn't be standing here from one second to the next.

He hacked a bit harder but soon actually got into it pretty quickly, as if there was an invisible force driving him, guiding him, like he'd really done this before. He then shrugged and fully got into it. At least he didn't have to sit around out there, all on his own, like a hen on a roost waiting for Connor or maybe even Daryl to return.

* * *

**Now…..**

Daryl was actually surprised to see that Connor was still there. Lying in his bed, waist covered with his blanket, sipping on the beer bottle ( _his beer, what the fuck?!_ ), staring holes in the air. He had a slight, sated smirk on his face, like he was thinking about something nice, and for a moment even the hunter couldn't keep himself from smiling a tiny bit as well.

This was something new.

The stupid leprechaun usually left after something like this had happened, probably to go talk to his stupid god or brother. But this time he was actually still there. He had listened to his request. And most importantly: he didn't look mope-y. No more whining about. Connor was actually _happy_. A sight that actually made the hunter happy as well. Because it hadn't been that long yet. Long since their farm days. He still remembered this other Connor all too clearly. So seeing this one right here certainly was a very nice change. When the Irishman finally looked up to face him Daryl quickly looked away and then walked over to the side of the bed, the place where they had thrown his clothes earlier.

"Place is all yours" he mumbled, pointed at the bathroom and avoided looking at Connor, who was actually still looking at him and even smirking a bit.

"Well 's about time, took ye longer than any chick've ever known."

Daryl snorted.

"Ain't no surprise, considering yah probably never knew any in the first place" he muttered and quickly put on his briefs and an undershirt to hide his scars. Connor got up with a smirk, stretched a bit and then headed for the bathroom to get cleaned up as well. Daryl secretly watched his friend pass him and then snorted a bit.

"Skinny asshole" he muttered as he saw his slim naked figure. It wasn't exactly true, only parts of it. He'd seen his friend a whole lot skinnier back then, when they had found him almost starved inside that church. Connor had certainly gained a bit more weight since then and more muscles, but his waist was still pretty slender, and his belly was thinner and flatter than his own. They only shared about the same size of their arm muscles, maybe a Daryl was a bit muscular than Connor there, but still.

The Irishman smirked even more as he walked past his friend and the grabbed the door knob.

"Jealous?" he teased and Daryl snorted, only to look down.

He was a bit embarrassed by the whole thing, how his friend seemed to be so comfortable walking around naked like it was no big deal.

"Yeah, you wish" he grumbled and then lay down on his bed with an exhausted huff.

Connor closed the door shut with a gentle chuckle and then obviously got to the whole cleaning himself up thing inside the bathroom. Daryl tucked both his arms underneath his head and just stared at the ceiling for a while, only occasionally looking at the bathroom door, a tiny smile on his face.

This whole thing was still a bit strange. And he was embarrassed by it. Even now.

He'd never been like this with anyone so far. Certainly not with bartender girl from the club. He'd been like Connor back then, eager to get it done and get the hell away again. There had never been any comfortable, natural feelings. He'd never been relaxed, he'd always been way too freaked out and eager to cover his couple of encounters up so neither Merle nor their father would ever learn about this.

Although he was still beyond upset he was actually –so- glad that the both of them were dead now. He couldn't imagine the drama, the sheer fear he would've had to face, had Merle never died that day. He knew Merle had loved him. He'd been an annoying, fucked up ass, but he'd never called him his baby brother for nothing.

But he remembered that one threat back at the prison, the one Connor had told him about.

He was sure that Merle would've killed the leprechaun over this whole thing.  
And if his father were still alive, the old man probably would've beaten _him_ to death as well.  
 _Faggy brother, faggy son of their own._ He didn't want to imagine what could've happened, because stuff had already happened.  
He'd been fucking a guy. He knew that he'd be doing it again.

And the worst part.

He knew why he didn't mind too much, why he felt almost comfortable, why he could smile, be somewhat relaxed about it and even joke around.

He suspected that he actually _loved_ the Irish clown now.

Daryl rubbed his face and squeezed his eyes shut, a frustrated, defeated sigh escaping his mouth.

_Fuuuuuuuck._

He still couldn't wrap his head around the whole thing. The deed itself, the guilt, the shame… He opened his eyes again when he heard the door open and saw Connor exit the bathroom, now wearing briefs, still smiling a bit. Daryl watched his friend cautiously as the Irishman walked over to the other side of the bed. The hunter waited for the next action, already cursing himself for thinking that way but – he waited for him to come back to bed. No, not grab his jeans and shirt, no, he wanted him to stay.

He was glad that he was good at keeping his emotions inside, that he was good at hiding smirks and smiles, because that's what he wanted to do when Connor _really_ wouldn't get ready to head back but actually lay back down right next to him as well. The hunter stared at the ceiling once more, swallowing hard.

 _Fuck. He was a lost cause_. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as good as he could, really fighting the urge to turn around and punch the Irishman for making him feel that much bullshit. A part of him still wanted to do that. Punch, hurt, kill Connor for fucking him up that much during the past year, for changing him so much, for turning him into _this_.

But it was still true.

Fuck it, but he believed that this was it, that he was actually like a chick with a serious crush.  
On his best friend.

"We went back t'prison today" Connor suddenly muttered and snapped Daryl out of it. The hunter turned his head to look at his friend in surprise.

"What?"

Connor nodded and let out a gentle sigh, tugging one arm under his head and imitating Daryl by doing that.

"Aye. I forgot ta tell ye earlier. But we did. Murph'n me. Just outside. We didn't go in. Just wanted ta show 'im. Place's still overrun with walkers."

Daryl looked back at the ceiling a frowned a little bit, only managing a quiet "Huh."

He didn't know why, but this actually pissed him off a bit. The prison had always been _their_ place. Their place only. Sure, even back then Murphy had been annoying as fuck with Connor's constant talking about him, but the guy had never physically been there back then. But now the stupid leprechaun had even dragged him over there.

"Yer one crazy fucker" Connor said with a snort and shook his head. "Going back down there ta get his rosary back. Ye really shouldn' have done this shit."

It was quiet for a while, because Daryl didn't know what to say and Connor got lost in thoughts for a while. Now that he was lying next to his friend, half naked, after the stuff that had happened less than 15 minutes ago, it felt a bit weird talking about the prison. He remembered how different Daryl had been back then. Different with him.

How different their relationship had been before Augusta, Savannah and now Woodbury. He remembered the countless times they had been lying next to each other like that, in a cell inside the prison, in a tent by the farm, only that back then Daryl had been thousands of miles away from being like he'd been with him just a couple of minutes ago. No, back then they had hated each other. Fought each other all the time. The hunter had even kind of tried to kill him once, on the farm. Fuck. Times changed.

The Irishman let out another sigh and then turned his head to look at his friend with a tired smile.

"Ye wanna go down, enjoy te party a bit?"

Daryl snorted. Of course the fucker wanted to leave now.

"Nope. Told yah. 'm tired."

"Whoa, calm down, ye might actually kill someone with tha wild enthusiasm of yers" Connor said with a gentle chuckle and Daryl turned his back on his friend with a little growl, eager to give him a cold shoulder and just ignore him. He already knew that this was the part where the stupid leprechaun would obviously get up and leave again, now that he'd gotten what he wanted.

He lay on his side for several minutes, eyes closed, waiting to fall asleep or hearing Connor leave. But he only frowned when he actually heard something else entirely. Gentle, hushed muttering. He eventually turned on his back with a confused frown and saw Connor still lying next to him, head bowed, chin rested on his chest, eyes closed, and obviously mumbling something.

Praying.

Connor was praying again.

Daryl snorted yet again and shook his head, only to turn back on his side and shift a bit.

"Geez, yah like one of those crazy dudes leaving a shit ton of messages on some voicemail. Give it up, he ain't gonna answer yah calls, leprechaun. Number yah called ain't available." He muttered in regards to his friend's constant praying.

"Shut it" Connor said and then got back to his praying, which kind of annoyed Daryl after a while.

"Thought yah gonna go back down enjoy that stupid barbeque of theirs and cry all over yah stupid bro" he growled and shifted once more to make it obvious that this whole thing annoyed him.

"Nope. Told yah. 'm tired" Connor slurred the words the way Daryl usually did it, the same pitch of voice and accent and all, trying to annoy his friend even more. The hunter didn't even need to turn around. He already knew that his friend was smirking behind his back.

"Screw yah" he just mumbled and closed his eyes, trying to sleep, although a smile slowly and finally crept across his face, a smile Connor couldn't see either. But once again the hunter was actually happy to find out and understand what this statement actually meant. He knew that Connor was going to stay with him.

* * *

"Is it true that you got bit?" the man behind him asked, and Murphy stopped working in surprise. He turned around and looked at Michael, one of Terry's friends who had come here to help out with the whole barbeque thing as well. Murphy kept looking at the man in disbelief, discomfort immediately growing inside of him.

"I got _shot_ " he muttered angrily and quickly got back to the final remnants of the deer he'd been working on for what felt like forever now.

"Yeah, I know. It ain't like we can't see it, but….rumor has it, yah got shot cos you got bit. People saw walkers ignore you just outside the wall…that true?" Michael kept nagging, trying to be all nonchalant about it as he placed the meat on a large plate so they could carry it outside to put it on the barbeque.

Murphy hacked at the meat a bit harder and grunted while doing so.

"Nope" he huffed and then threw another bunch of useless pieces in the bucket to his right.

"Okay…okay…even if you did.. y'know get bit, it ain't like I'd tell anyone but..okay…" Michael muttered and Murphy tried not to roll his eyes. It was beyond obvious that the other man was curious, that he wanted to know what was up with the scars. Murphy cursed himself for having done the thing with the walkers. He remembered what Connor had told him, how right he really had been about the whole thing. Nobody was supposed to know about this. Because as soon as someone knew the whole thing could spread like wildfire and a day later, the whole town would know. Even the people who apparently couldn't be trusted. He didn't like the fact that so many people knew about this already.

"My son, he got bit" Michael suddenly said and Murphy looked at the man again.

"At college. He was a good kid. Almost made it to his lawyer's degree. In Athens. University of Georgia. By the time I got there….he…"

Murphy just kept looking at the man, who stopped working for a moment and then shook his head with a sad smile.

"Had a bite on his chest. And ever since that I've just..been wondering what it felt like for him. If he had to suffer or…" the man took a deep breath and sighed. "Nevermind."

"I'm sorry" Murphy said after a while and Michael gave him a tiny sad smile. He was just about to say something else when Terry suddenly came back, a bit sweaty from all his running around, obviously still a bit pissed.

"You, Irish, do me a favor and bring the rest of that stuff outside. They're waiting" he muttered and then even pressed the plate in Murphy's hands, who took it with a surprised huff. Part of him already wanted to complain and tell him to do this on his own then if he was in such a fucking hurry, but part of him was actually glad that he finally had a decent excuse to leave and stop talking to Michael because it had already gotten awkward again.

So he did as he was told and carried the remaining meat outside, having a look around while doing so because he still wanted to find Connor. He already kind of missed his sibling, wanted to talk to him about what had just happened, and the other part of him actually wanted to celebrate with him as well. But Connor was nowhere in sight.

Murphy frowned a bit as he carried the meat over to the barbeque, and maybe he was a bit pissed by now because he just couldn't find his brother and the stupid redneck and because he didn't want to be alone forever.

"Don't tell me you ate the whole thing by yourself!" he heard someone complain to his right and turned his head to see what was going on. Mary, the woman who had made the tomato salad, was standing opposite some teenaged boy with black hair and glasses. He was staring down at the bowl that was now empty.

"But, I was hungry" he mumbled and the woman laughed in disbelief.

"We all are! But that doesn't mean we can just, take what we want and eat it without sharing it with the others!"

"You know I can't eat any of the meat Mr Dixon or the others bring along, and I'm tired of eating the canned stuff every day, it's all just..dead vegetables and fruit. Dead and stale. And then this was just….standing there! Mr Fox said they made it for me because of my allergies!"

"I can't believe this! I told them I was going to make it for everyone to try! It was our first real harvest, Patrick!"

"I'm sorry!"

Murphy placed the processed meat on the table by the barbeque and then walked over to Mary and Patrick, who were obviously fighting over the tomatoes he and Rick had originally provided for this little meeting. He had a short curious look around to check if Connor, Daryl or Rick were there, but the first two were nowhere in sight. Rick was sitting around the table with other members of the 'group', including his little daughter on his lap and his son Carl, recognizable because of the sheriff's hat on his head.

"It's alright, we can get a few more if ye want, 'm sure Rick wouldn' mind" he offered himself and looked back from Rick to Mary and Patrick. The woman still seemed rather angry, Patrick just seemed embarrassed.

"No, of course we can't. We've got this whole rationing system for a reason, _don't we?"_ she said and looked back at Patrick right then and there, which made Murphy feel slightly awkward as well. He didn't know if she was the kid's mother or just another one of those random, angry Woodbury citizens, whoever she was, she was crazy mad at the kid, and Murphy felt a bit sorry for him.

"Me 'n my brother, we got more seeds and crop samples fram a farm today. 'm sure we're gonna get more than enough stuff ta grow sooner or later. Really, it's not so bad. Those weren't even half the tomatoes Rick still got over there."

"That doesn't change anything!" Mary exclaimed and then suddenly walked right away, towards the old man Hershel and Sasha, the nice woman he'd been on a run with today. Murphy raised both his eyebrows in surprise and watched her leave, only to look back at Patrick who was still standing by the bowl that had once contained Mary's tomato salad.

"Jesus, she yer Ma?" he asked with a gentle chuckle, trying to lighten the mood a bit because the kid was obviously beyond embarrassed by his little faux-pas.

"Just my aunt. She took me in after…" Patrick said and then let out a gentle sigh. He finally looked up at Murphy.

"I'm sorry for eating all of your tomatoes, Mr…."

Murphy smiled a little and nudged the boy.

"Murphy. Alright, no need ta Mr me."

Patrick nodded and even offered him his hand.

"I'm Patrick" he introduced himself and Murphy took his hand after a moment, with a slight smirk on his face because he was amused by how polite the kid was.

"Patrick. And why can't ye eat meat? Are ye some sorta vegetarian? Bit hard ta pull through during the end of the world, innit?"

Patrick started picking up dirty plates and carried them over to the basket for them. Murphy, who was in some sort of chatty mood now and actually curious about the whole tomato incident, followed him. Patrick let out a nervous laugh and shook this head, only to adjust his glasses.

"No, I've got this….very rare allergy. A tick bit me once and somehow this turned into a meat allergy. I can't eat any red meat."

Murphy started laughing a bit, although he didn't want to.

"Yer shitting me."

Patrick shook his head and looked down, obviously embarrassed.

"No. I ended up in hospital after eating my dad's steak once. During a barbeque just like this one, actually. That's when they diagnosed it. Meat allergy, fur… you name it. I got it all."

Murphy finally stopped smiling and laughing and eyed Patrick head to toe, finally getting that this was no joke. No wonder the kid was so skinny, he thought, but at the same time wondering how the fuck he had managed to survive all this when tough men like Simmons had died months before.

"Wow, sucks."

"It's got its ups and downs" Patrick said quietly as he kept sorting the dishes and tried to avoid touching remaining bits and pieces of flesh. "We had to live off the land for a while, after the turn. Eat berries, crops, it was easier for me because I was used to it. My family wasn't."

"Patrick?"

Both Murphy and Patrick turned their heads to look at the woman who had called out. Murphy recognized her. Carol. Daryl's friend, the woman Connor had talked to earlier. The woman he had talked to the day before. He tried to give her a little smile, considering that she was part of 'the group' after all. She gave him a smile back and then approached them, now looking at Patrick.

"Where were you today? You missed story time. We were waiting for you."

Patrick straightened his back and even swallowed a bit, like he was somehow a bit intimidated by Carol.

"I…I'm sorry Ma'am. I wasn't feeling very well. I….I couldn't go" he said and then quickly looked down again, fixing his glasses. Carol just looked at him.

"Sometimes you have to fight through it. What if you wind up out there, alone. You just give up because you're feeling bad?"

Murphy raised an eyebrow at that because it was a bit weird hearing that when it was just about something as silly as a little book club. But Patrick still seemed intimidated, swallowed and shook his head a little.

"No…it's just…I don't wanna…" he then looked at Murphy, gave him a weird look which confused the younger MacManus even more. Murphy looked at Patrick and then at Carol, and although he wanted to ask what was up with that all and although he wanted to say something as well he felt like he was intruding, so he stayed silent.

Carol eventually let out a gentle sigh and nodded to the side.

"Come around as soon as you're feeling better."

Patrick nodded with a shy "Yes, Ma'am" and then seemed to be very eager to get away from her.

Murphy watched the kid leave and then let out a little chuckle.

"Sounds like I really should come along and join yer story time. I keep hearing about tha one" he said and tried to open up a little conversation with Carol, who watched Patrick leave and then looked at him.

Murphy actually considered this for a moment, although he wouldn't speak it out. He remembered his and Carol's chat about that, and he still couldn't stop thinking about his own little problems. Now that he thought about it, he actually really wanted to join this story time of theirs. Learn how to read whole books again, even if it was the simplest kid's stuff. He wanted to get back all the basics after this stupid shot. Even if it meant having to sit through this with freaking kids. But then again. He was still too proud, too embarrassed, too angry to actually really ask Carol if he could join.

Maybe he was just going to come around one day. Ask the Patrick kid when those were taking place.

Carol suddenly looked at him with a questioning look on her face.

"Did your brother tell you?" she asked, and Murphy believed to hear caution in her voice, which made him frown.

"Tell me what?"

Carol proceeded to look at him for a long while, then she just shook her head and looked away.

"Nothing. Forget it."

Murphy just frowned even more and kept looking at her, but wouldn't say anything just like before, simply because he didn't know her enough already. God knows, maybe she was always like this. A bit weird and mysterious about everything.

"Speaking of which, have ye seen 'im? Connor? Or maybe even tha schtupid redneck of his?"

Carol actually cracked a little smile right there and let out a gentle chuckle.

"You mean Daryl?"

"Aye, I mean dirty."

Carol shook her head but still smiled.

"No, sorry. Not since he got back from the hunt."

Murphy grumbled a bit and scanned the surrounding buildings, hoping to find them this time. But of course. Connor was nowhere in sight. Carol left right after their conversation, and since Murphy couldn't find his brother anywhere, he decided to simply join 'the group' and talk to them. Some of them were eating the stuff he had helped prepare, but the younger MacManus just needed to see the meat on Glenn's plate and he wanted to throw up. He wouldn't eat anything, the whole skinning a deer and fiddling about with its intestines all evening had killed his appetite.

He ended up having fun in the end and engaged in various discussions and conversations with Hershel, Glenn, Maggie, Rick, even people he usually didn't talk to that much before, people like Andrea, Michonne. Or the guy next to Andrea, the doctor guy, Milton or whatever his name was. He still seemed to be rather interested in him, his story, his former injuries, but as soon as he mentioned Connor and reminded Murphy of his absence the younger MacManus just decided to stop talking about anything like that and changed the topic.

He went back upstairs eventually, back home, by the time the sun had already set. Slightly drunk, alone, hoping that maybe Connor had made it up there as well and that he'd just missed him.

* * *

_**in the middle of the night...** _

_Woodbury, former 'gladiator fights' arena._

The laughter, conversations and sound of music was slowly dying out around them. The two figures of the pigs were lazily running around the area, occasionally digging their noses into the dirt with happy grunts, enjoying their new home. The horse was standing under the improvised shelter, one of its hooves slightly bent and rested against the sand. The animals were tired already, exhausted by the travel, the heat, the newness of it all.

The creaking of the metal gate startled all three of them, making the horse balk a tiny bit and the pigs run away.

A dark figure entered the small arena, two metal buckets in each hand, buckets that contained the bloody remnants of the deer and other animals that had been consumed today. The stranger walked over to the trough and emptied the buckets in it, scattering the waste left to right.

"Here piggy piggy" he muttered while doing so, a dark smirk crossing his face.

The animals were still rather excited and frightened, but the smell of meat and waste eventually drew the two pigs in to come closer, to approach the trough and then stick their heads into it to start eating, simply because they were always hungry. The stranger smiled and patted their backs, pleased with the result, how easy it had really been to get them to eat.

"Theeeeere you go" he muttered and patted the pigs once more, looking up at the horse, who still balked with its ears pulled back.

* * *

_**two nights ago, 2 miles west of Sharpsburg...** _

Derek Mitchell, a slender man in white undershirt, camouflage shorts and a long, black fringe that was dangling left and right in front glasses, was kneeling in front of the box that he had placed on the ground not too far from his truck. He had placed himself in the middle of a field just outside of town, smoke in his mouth, lighter in his hand as he fiddled with the countless igniter cords of the fireworks he had gathered here. He tied them all together, just like he always did, to a much longer cord so they could somewhat go off at the same time.

"Come on, Aaron and Jake are waiting for this" the woman by his car said, a voice that immediately made him look up and grin. Even after one year of going through the most fucked up shit with her, he was still madly in love with this woman. Her _nice_ legs she never hid and always wrapped up in the nicest and shortest pants, her smile, her fucked up personality, her kinkiness. Jessica was just standing there, leaned against his truck, her AK-47 placed right between those nice legs. She was smoking a cigarette as well, with the next one waiting to be smoked and stuck between her right ear and the bandana she always wore to hold back her long, brown hair.

Derek just grinned even more, hunger immediately growing in his eyes as he finally got up and grabbed the cord to get further away from the box. He walked until he reached the end of said cord and gave his girlfriend a final grin.

"You watch me, babe" he announced and then finally lit the cord, a procedure he could never get enough of, no matter how many times he had done it before. He then quickly and eagerly jogged away from the cord and box and towards his girlfriend, to wrap his arms around her slender waist and capture her in a heated kiss that turned into a battle of tongues. " _threee...twoo...one.._ " He mumbled into her mouth and then quickly turned around to watch his work get done. He was so used to it all that the fireworks went off on the dot, shooting up in the air and then exploding into thousands of colorful sparks and fountains.

The noise was deafening, but just like the many times before they did not care about it. Quite the opposite. It threw them into some sort of ecstasy and Jessica started screaming, hollering, howling and cheering with joy, even dancing around the now illuminated field because the fireworks made her feel so free, so fantastic, so on top of the world. Derek laughed and hollered as well as he leaned against the truck, took another drag on his cigarette and just watched his girlfriend dance.

"This is for you, babe. This is us" he said and she finally came running at him, jumping up on him and capturing him in another passionate kiss. They got so into it that he almost wanted to carry her to the front of their car again, to just throw her on there and give into his instincts because her motions were driving him crazy, but then the noise and hoarse groans and cries of walkers all around them put an end to it.

He opened his eyes and looked up at the sky, watched his fireworks and then the eerie illuminated faces of the countless undead all around them, which were all getting drawn in by the visual, the noise.

The exact thing they had intended.

"Alright. They're coming. We got them distracted. Let's get back, loot shit. Maybe I can find you something pretty" he said and put her back on the ground.  
She fished her hair out of her mouth and cursed while grabbing her gun again.

"Fuck pretty. Just once I would actually like to get to the fucking under fireworks, ugh" she complained with an angry frown, took a final drag on her cigarette, threw it away and then carelessly aimed her gun at a couple of walkers. She kept her finger on the trigger and mowed them down just for the fun of it, only to grin and cheer once more. She watched the undead fall to the ground, partially torn in half or just riddled with bullets, bloody,mangled, gutted. It made her laugh and dance even more, like she was driven by something.

Derek laughed as well, beyond amused and maybe even turned on by the carnage. He then grabbed his gun as well and decided to join her in this massacre.

The noise and blinding lights of the fireworks attracted a herd of at least two hundred walkers, not to far from the scene. The sound of the never-ending rattling of assault rifles made the leading thirty walkers turn their heads almost immediately and at the same time, a couple of dry, exhausted moans escaping their mouths as they changed direction, bumped into each other, some of them falling down and crawling, despite the fact that they kept getting stepped on, crushed, or ripped in half. But the noise and herd mentality kept them moving, away from their former target which would've been somewhere up north.  
No. Now they were heading East.

* * *

 ** _Earlier today,_**  
 ** _The Grayson property and surrounding farmland, 4 miles south of Woodbury,  
close to the_** _**West Georgia Correctional Facility**_

They had been staggering for two days, almost in a straight line, always in the same direction. Sometimes getting distracted by rabits and other animals, but for the most time just walking, following each other, a constant motion and blind following, simply because one of them had once started walking. The walkers stumbled across stones, walked around abandoned cars, tripped into puddles, got split up by trees but got back together whenever there was a field that needed to be crossed. None of them was able to actually think about what they were doing. They were just dead. Dead and walking, following, only the occasional, distorted and almost unified groaning escaping their mouths and keeping them company.

It was day two when their 'interest' was awoken for a second time, this time by a lonely car with a trailer in the middle of the road left to them. There were just innocent little sounds. The nickering of a horse, the clunking of metal whenever the animal kicked at its boundaries for a bit. Or then the stuttering and starting of a car engine. But when there were no other sounds except for maybe an occasional scream or gunshot, it was enough to make them blindly follow the noise.

The wind had carried it over to them, calling out to them, guiding them once more. And just like the many times before the walkers 'in charge', meaning the faster ones up front, blindly followed the noise. The car was faster than them and soon disappeared, but it had made enough impact on them. The noise had changed their course yet again, making them walk to the left and, in the geographical sense, further South-East. They kept walking, following the car that had long since disappeared, following it, in the direction of the small town Woodbury.


	19. Night Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very long chapter this time. Loads more Connaryl, some more Daryl's past, and one more important season 4 plot point. I'm pretty confident that shit is going to hit the fan in the next chapter, pretty much like in the tv series. I think.
> 
> Also thank you for all the comments from new readers! =)

It had gotten quiet outside by now. Quiet and dark. He'd drifted of into a light sleep, from time to time, but never really falling asleep. Daryl lazily kicked his blanket away and looked down on himself, his tanned arms but incredibly white legs because he always wore his black jeans and never any shorts. He was glad that he didn't do the shower thing all too often, or the swimming in lakes thing. Certainly not with anyone around. He still didn't want anyone to see. His scars, his marks. Good thing now. At least this way, they wouldn't laugh at his silly white legs. White and hairy. He reached down and scratched his calf while staring out of the window, which was open now. Sometimes he stared at the ceiling, too, where he could see the soft flicker from the torches outside.

It was a peaceful evening. He still wasn't used to that. Months on the move, and endless list of problems, enemies and dangers and now this. The hunter cleared his throat and then turned his head to the left, to look at the sleeping man next to him. It made him smile. Even after one year of being used to this kind of sharing his sleeping quarters with him, it still made him smile.

Connor was lying next to him, sound asleep. It was still a bit funny. The Irishman slept kind of weird. If he wasn't clinging to something, be it him or the blanket, he was either lying flat on his back, head slightly leaned to the side, or he was lying on his belly, face half buried in his pillow and clinging to that one as if he was trying to strangle it.

Today was one of those nights where he was doing the latter, once again clearly exposing the large tattoo on his back.

Although Daryl had an equally large tattoo on his back as well (all thanks to the Irish weirdo), the sheer size and look of Connor's tattoo still crept him out a bit. One year, and he still couldn't understand his religious fanaticism. The hunter shifted and turned on his side, to just watch his friend sleep for a while, thinking about many things. He was actually surprised how calm he really was. Almost at peace. He was really getting used to this. Slowly and carefully, but he was getting used to it.

He really wouldn't have thought that things weren't going to change that much. One week and still not that much of a change, and he was awfully grateful for that. He just smiled again, although it was a bitter smile. All those years he'd secretly been waiting for something like this. A best friend, a person who treated him with respect, a person who was really close to him but wasn't possessive or abusive. He couldn't understand how he'd been so against Connor once. How he possibly could've dubbed him the most annoying person he'd ever met, how he'd been so keen to get rid of him at first.

He'd never felt like this before.

Daryl let out a little frustrated sigh and turned his head to look at the ceiling again. Deep deep down he'd always known. Known that he had liked the Irishman right from the start. He'd –always- been grateful for his presence, all the attention he'd been given. He just hadn't been able to really get that and understand that back on the farm. And deep deep down he'd always known that he'd "fallen" for the guy pretty early as well, namely and possibly during the winter they had spent together. Alone, at that fire station. He'd just been really eager to kill the thought, the emotion connected to it because it was too weird, too foreign, too wrong.

The truth was that it was no real surprise, though, simply because there were so many reasons for why he _should_ fall for him. The fact that the Irishman was everything he was not, the fact that he really was his first ever best friend, and all the reasosn he would –never- dare admit to. Attraction to the other man's looks, for example. Sure, he'd been taught all his life that anything in that direction was evil, disgusting, kill-worthy. Something that needed to be erased and punished.

But he also wasn't blind. There was a difference between feeling sexual and romantic attraction for people of the same sex only and simply acknowledging the fact when someone actually looked nice, female or not. He knew that there were really ugly people in the world. People he had grown up with, with missing and rotten teeth, people who smelled terrible and were half bald and obese and simply disgusting. His father had been one of those, for example. He even had to admit that he counted himself to this part. He didn't think he was attractive at all. Too dirty, too 'redneck' after all.

But then there were other people in this world, people who were far from ugly. Magazine shit. All those people he'd seen on posters and adverts and in movies. People he and his family had always considered pussies and gays, people who sure had been incapable of surviving and taking care of themselves the way they had done. No, most of those 'good-looking' people had only known how to take care of their looks and most of them sure were dead now, but it didn't matter right now, because he still had to acknowledge one thing. There _were_ nice looking people with both genders. And simply acknowledging that didn't make anyone gay.

And he _had_ to acknowledge that his friend didn't look too bad, that he was on this side, that he was sort of attracted to him. Not just his character, but also his looks. It was no surprise. Connor was one of those stupid dudes chicks usually liked by default. Blonde, blue eyes, stupid laugh lines and faint wrinkles that showed whenever he was smiling or laughing, and speaking of that, nice laugh, nice body, sometimes almost girly but at the same time brutal, vulgar and deadly. High school prom king material.

If you were into this sort of thing.

Hell, Daryl could even admit that some of the others in this town didn't look too bad either. He could be attracted to anyone, if he wanted. Both male or female. Maggie didn't look too bad. Or those two women from Woodbury. Carol was pretty in her own unique way. Tyreese's girlfriend. Even Rick. But fuck it, out of all those people, he happened to feel attracted the most to the leprechaun who was lying right next to him. And that was kind of funny.

He wondered how this had come to pass, although in the end, he knew _exactly_ how this had happened. Connor had come into his life when he'd been separated from his family, his usual environment for the very first time in his life. When there had been no pressure, no fear, no suppression, no nothing because he'd been all alone. There had been no Merle watching his every step and commenting on his every move as soon as something wasn't 'manly' or 'Dixon' enough, there had been no father constantly isolating him from everyone and everything.

Connor had been clingy and physical, like no one ever had in his life before. _Forcing_ him to open himself up to this kind of thing, although it had been weird, foreign and against his upbringing. And here they were now. One year later. And he was almost happy, comfortable, at peace, and able to handle kind words and gestures, even able to reciprocate them.

He'd heard about this before, how very tight friendships and dependency could turn into romantic or sexual attraction. And especially the sexual part was no surprise. This was the end of the world. Everyone was constantly stressed, felt alone, felt the sheer weight of the knowledge that there were no billions of people left in this world, that there were actually billions of walking corpses and just a few people who were still alive. The sheer pressure, fear and 'this could be our last day' vibe of it all made everyone needier by default. And sex happened to be one of the most efficient sorts of stress relief apart from violence or even drugs.

And the truth was that he, Daryl Dixon, tough survivalist and 'I don't need nobody' hunter, had always been needy anyway. He'd always needed someone, be it Merle or his neighbors, hell, even his stupid, abusive father. His unwillingness to really be alone and his secret _need_ to be with someone had made him stay with his abusive father even into his mid-thirties, it had made him stay on the farm with the group even when he'd been so determined to leave, it had made him keep Connor in his tent or bed even when he hated physical contact, it had made him fall in love with his best friend, it made him so loyal and it made him keep following people wherever they went. No matter how hard he was trying to hide it.

He still really wished he could have both his lives now. His old life and this new one right here.

He knew his former life had been a terrible train wreck and far from healthy both emotionally and physically. But he still missed it. He wished he could have his family, Merle, and still be able to have something like the thing he was having with Connor now. Although he knew that the both of them were mutually exclusive.

Daryl let out yet another frustrated sigh and closed his eyes, unwilling to keep brooding and thinking simply because he didn't like feeling anything or being so goddamn emotional and affected because of a simple, stupid fuck. He just tried to blend everything out, affection, worry, the past, the present, he just wanted to sleep.

* * *

" _Nothing. Just….Did ye really sleep with just one woman in yer life? Or more? Ye never really told me, didn't do it on the farm, never did it ever since. Just got me wondering…. Is it cos of yer Da? Yer scars and stuff?"_

Daryl was lying on his back, way too tense already, eyes wandering under closed lids that were fluttering a bit, sometimes squeezed shut. It wasn't the first time he was dreaming about this, but just like the countless times before he just couldn't fight it, couldn't wake up, couldn't stop thinking that this was real, that this was happening.

_"What the hell are yah doin up there yah useless piece 'a shit?!" came the thundering growl of a voice downstairs, which startled him and made him fall back with a terrified, surprised shriek. His chest was heaving, he was breathing heavier and faster by the second, eyes opened wide and body shaking with fear. He'd failed to hear his father's return. No door slamming, no car engine, he hadn't heard anything, so how could the old man be back?_

_"Daryl!"_

_He snapped his head to the side, trying to find a way out of here but of course, he was on the second floor, and the stairs were the only way out. The stairs that were now creaking under the weight of his slightly obese father. Daryl searched his room in panic, trying to find a place to hide but there was nowhere to go. His father already knew his hiding place inside the cupboard, this would be the first place for him to go look._

_More creaking of the stairs, and then he heard the soft, sickening chuckle that made him want to rip his ears off._

_"C'mon. I know you're in there yah little brat. Be a good girl and greet your old man. 'm home now. And I damn hope yah missed me, yah know what happens if yah don't…"_

_"No" Daryl gasped and got back up on his feet, wincing at the cracking of his abused ribs. He then started running, to get to the only refuge and place he had left, that tiny bathroom he shared with Merle and that connected their rooms. His heart was pounding heavily in his chest, more than afraid of what he knew was about to happen as soon as his father opened the door to his room. So he ripped the door open, trying to flee through Merle's room, Merle, his big brother who wasn't there to protect him. Again._   
_  
The door was locked._

_"No…no no no no" he whispered in panic, grabbing the knob and trying to twist it, left and right, left and right, but it wouldn't give in._

_"Darleeeeena. Come on, where's Daddy's favorite little shit…"_

_The creaking of his door, now there was only the bathroom door left, the only piece of wood that separated him from the massive, brutal figure that was his father. Daryl turned around in panic and stared at the bathroom door with wide eyes, even running in circles for a bit, panicked, because he didn't know where to run, because there was no place to hide. There was no time left._

_He did the only thing he had left to prevent any further beatings. He would have to pretend. He would have to hide the sheer terror and fear. He had to fake strength once more. The boy ran for the sink and grabbed the old toothbrush and squeezed some toothpaste on it, only to shove it in his mouth and start brushing his teeth. He still couldn't help but startle when the bathroom door was kicked open, revealing his father, with the dirty wifebeater and mechanic's overall that had once been blue but was now smudged with oil, dirt and stains from food and beer. Alcohol, that he could smell half a mile away._

_Daryl instantly spun around and ripped the toothbrush out of his mouth to fake a shy smile._

_"Dad! You're back home!" he fake cheered, 'smiling' even more, because he knew the consequences of an 'improper' greeting. He had experienced them endless times already. Will Dixon, mechanic and widower in his late forties, just stared down at his scrawny son for a while, eyes fixed on his bruised face and then, the toothbrush in his shaky, swollen hands._

_"What're yah doin?" he snarled, his voice alarming Daryl already and making him back off a bit, until his back connected with the sink._

_"G…getting cleaned up for…for you" he stuttered, once again trying to fake a smile because this was another rule, another reason why he could receive a beating. Will Dixon didn't want a 'dirty, germ-infested mangy dog' as son. Especially not since this 'useless piece of a shit-plague Merle' had already 'caused his wife's death'. He just kept staring at Daryl for a while, really scaring the younger Dixon. The boy was just about to fake even more concern and love by asking how his day at work had been when a hard punch in his face made him grunt and fall to the side, simply because of the sheer force of it._

_Daryl was thrown against the filthy bathtub, where the side of his head connected hard with the porcelain, making his ears ring and his eyes burn with tears. But he had learned to muffle any sounds, he had learned to keep the tears in and not show any weaknesses because the pain would just get worse otherwise. He just landed on his ass for a moment, head spinning from the impact but still more than eager to get back up before this could result in actual kicks._

_"I told yah t'cover those bruises up, you piece of shit. I told yah I don't want t'see nothin red'n blue in your face when I get back."_

_Daryl didn't seem to get up too fast for him, because Will then crossed the remaining distance between them and grabbed his son by his shirt to actually lift him up with it, using just one hand, yanking him up until his feet were dangling in the air. The younger Dixon really tried to keep the noises and reactions in but he just ended up gasping a terrified "No!" and then squeezed his eyes shut in fear._

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Dad! I'll do it, I'm gonna.." he instantly shouted, trying to defuse the situation, but his father just narrowed his eyes at him and wouldn't let him down._

_"You're scared" he observed, getting angrier by the second, the stench of alcohol hitting Daryl right in his face because they were so close now._

The boy widened his eyes in shock and shook his head in panic.

_"'m not..'m not…" he mumbled, although he really was close to actually pissing himself, because every single time something like this happened he feared that this could be the day his own father, his dad, was going to murder him in his drunken, mad, and drugged craze._

_"You are, you weak piece of shit! What've I told you 'bout…"_

_"I'm not scared! I ain't afraid of nothin, Dad! Please just.." Daryl actually screamed back, trying to show strength with the sheer volume of his voice, even grabbing his father's arm and squeezing tightly not only to get him to let him go, but also to show him how 'strong' he was._

_"Don't interrupt me!" Will roared though, screamed back and that right in his son's face, only to actually throw him back down, making Daryl's head bang against the bathtub and tiles once more. The younger Dixon winced in pain and saw stars once more, this time even actually passing out for a couple of seconds. Will reached for his belt, watching his child gain consciousness again, his eyes narrowing, face red from the sheer wrath and drunkenness._

_"I ain't havin any of yah ungrateful, pathetic, sissiness you lil shit" he said and spat on the ground, right in front of Daryl's legs. "That piece of shit yah call your brother sure drummed that much bullshit int'your skull, thinkin he can turn yah into just another version of himself, bein a useless waste of space who ain't even worthy of breathin the same air as me, disrespectin me in my own goddamn house. But don't worry, princess, ain't no one gonna take yah away from Daddy"_

_He even leaned down and grinned in his son's face, eyes mad and wide open by now._

_"Merle didn't do nothin he…" Daryl whispered, trying to defend his big brother, no longer able to hide his fear and pain. He really wanted to cry now, especially since they were talking about Merle, his brother, his protector. It hurt so much knowing that Merle probably wouldn't come back home, that he wasn't going to punch this monster in his face and place himself in front of him, that he was all alone now and that this just kept happening, although his father had never been like that to him before Merle had left them._

_"Don't lie to me!" Will roared and kicked Daryl hard, but the boy only took the blow with a muffled grunt._

_"Jess saw the two of yah, plottin away, what'd he do, huh? Congratulate yah on bein a weak little whore, huh?"_

_"'m not weak! And 'm not scared'a yah!" Daryl suddenly yelled back, remembering all the things Merle had done and in what those had resulted. If his Dad really had to take it this way and keep telling him this then he might as well do that, to maybe stop it. He then even dared to spit right back to show strength, and just for a moment Will actually looked surprised._

_Daryl really wanted to just curl himself up in this corner, curl up and cry and disappear behind the tiles, to just stop existing or run away and be with Merle, but he did not dare doing anything like that because he already knew that this would result in him losing the fight. So he kept glaring at his father, eyes fixed on his terrifying, swollen fat face and then even hauled himself up, no matter how much his entire body hurt._

_He already expected real punches this time and yet another one of his father's violent outbursts, but much to his surprise Will actually started laughing._

_"Well, well, who'd thought yah slimy worm'd do shit like this" he said, laughing even more, the stench of hard booze oozing out of his mouth with each breathy and disgusting laugh. He laughed for a whole while, terrifying Daryl even more until he finally stopped and just stared at his son._

_"Alright, boy. If yah really ain't afraid of nothin, then yah better show me your best behavior. Cos if yah do, I actually might punish yah useless ass a little less t'day" he said and Daryl's face immediately fell._

_"Cos that's what we do t'little pieces of shit who don't know how t'respect their fathers, right? Cos that's what yah did, didn' you, Darylena."_

_Daryl seriously just wanted to bawl his eyes out. He knew that there was no way out of this. There was only the option to ease the pain. If he disagreed now he'd receive more punches. If he agreed then he would admit to a 'crime' he hadn't even committed, he would get just as beaten, but a little less._

_"Yeah" he whispered, fighting really hard not to cry, but his jaw was already trembling a bit._

_"What?" Will instantly yelled, angered once more, because another rule had been broken, incorrectly answered._

_"Yes, Sir!" Daryl immediately said, just as loud and strong, hoping to prevent another mood change from his father._

_Then it came to the series of events that usually happened. He was dragged back inside his room, by the collar of his shirt, dragged in front of his bed and forced to kneel in front of it in a praying position. His own father forced him to pray to a god he did not even believe in, never had, never could, as the man behind him used his belt and started whipping his back, ripping open the old gashes once more._

_Daryl kept saying the 'prayers' loud and clearly, although his voice was strained and the words came out grunted whenever the belt connected with his back. He could not understand how anyone could believe in god, a man who let this happen to him. He thought praying was useless, he'd never been able to understand how Merle could've possibly started believing if their Dad had really done the same to him, but he just kept saying the words, loud and clear, if only to prevent his father from lashing out on him even more, simply because he would be 'disrespecting' the rules this way._

_He would not cry, would not_ really _beg god for forgiveness and mercy on his soul (his father insisted, though, to 'clean' his soul and prevent him from turning into mini Merle, his disobedient other son), he took each blow and muffled each grunt, killed each tear, hoping to make future punishments less painful._

_And when his father came into his room later that same day, during the night, to 'apologize' and show him how much he 'loved' his youngest son, he wouldn't say anything either. He just endured the suffocating weight of the obese man on top of him, he just endured the disgustingly and contrasting gentle touching and kissing, although it always made him puke right after, although it always made him want to claw his already bruised and bloody skin off. Faking strength and 'love' once more, although he felt dead inside, although he felt nothing but violent hatred, even when he was still so young and wasn't even supposed to know what true hatred felt like._

He still woke up with a terrified gasp, he still startled violently and reached to the side, where he'd always kept a knife or a gun. Daryl let out a frustrated grunt when he accidentally grasped for an arm instead, because there was no gun or other weapon right next to him, only his friend, who he'd woken up with his sudden grasp. The hunter closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed the bridge of his nose, cursing in his thoughts. No matter how many times he'd dreamt about the whole thing, it never failed to terrify him, it never failed to make him angry, to make him feel ashamed, disgusted and upset.

"Wha's te matter?" Connor asked sleepily, shifting a bit which made Daryl look at him for a moment.

Ironically enough, he was staring at the tattoo once more. Jesus Christ. Son of the lord, this useless fucker up there he knew didn't exist anyway, and if he did, the fucker who was a sadistic piece of shit.

Connor, his friend, a man who believed so much in a force he despised so much.

"Nothin" the hunter muttered and then sat up for a moment, to calm himself down, to maybe walk around a bit and try to forget about everything. He knew why he was dreaming about that again now, all the time. Although he'd managed to forget about it for a while. But it was right back now, making the scars on his back pulsate. It had to be his conscience mocking him. Everything that was happening now kept reminding him of this, made it unable to keep pretending that it had never happened. Because Connor's tattoos were right there, his whole religious talk was right there. Because he was a guy, and because this had resulted in yet another bunch of 'sexual' experiences with a guy. It didn't matter that those were wanted this time.

This was also the very reason why Connor's tattoo, the one on his back, kept creeping him out. Religion. God's son. Prayers. Connected to a man's back. Perfect.

He buried his face in his hand for a moment, letting out a tired and exhausted sigh.

"Hey" Connor said after a moment, shifting closer, even putting a hand on his shoulder, trying to turn him around, but Daryl just shook him off with an angry growl.

"Fuck off."

It was quiet for a very long while, until the Irishman finally said something.

"Do ye want me t'leave?" he offered, a bit helpless.

He already kind of suspected that this was probably about another one of Daryl's nightmares. Everyone was having those these days. He had them, Murphy had them, Daryl had them. But of course, nobody liked talking about those. Especially not Daryl. He figured that his friend wanted to be alone. The truth was that he was too tired to get into yet another fight over this, because he could already feel and see how tense his friend was again. He just knew that he would probably kill the mood, destroy the progress they'd gone through today if he kept nagging now, and since he was too tired to do that anyway, and since he kinda also wanted to check on Murphy, he decided to just give in and give his friend some space.

"Yeah" Daryl said, confirming Connor's suspicion.

The Irishman nodded behind him, eyes fixed on Daryl's back that his undershirt covered.

His friend had made it very clear once more, that this was a topic he'd probably never talk about. So Connor just nodded and got up, tiredly searching for the rest of his clothes.

"Alright."

Daryl kept sitting there the whole time, at the edge of the bed, back turned on him.  
Connor had just successfully managed to put on his old jeans when the hunter, much to his surprise, suddenly started talking.

"He blamed Merle for our Mom's death" he suddenly said and Connor stopped.

"Beat him bloody over it. My Dad. He really hated Merle. So much, that he almost managed t'kill him once. Merle left home that evening. Never really came back…Shoulda done the same thing" he said quietly and then finally got up to walk over to the open window. "The old man was a frustrated, drunk son of a bitch. Hung out with the wrong people, couldn't handle two kids cos our Mom did most of it. Then she died, in the fire."

He eventually looked at his friend.

"He set up all those rules t'make it 'easier' for him. Forced me t'fend for myself cos he was too lazy'n underpaid t'take care of me. 'n whenever I broke a rule, hung out with 'the wrong people' or said 'the wrong thing' he'd do crazy shit like punish me. Made me kneel, say prayers while he punched the shit outta me" he said and then raised his eyebrow a bit, eyes fixed on the tattoo on Connor's arm.

"Sound familiar?"

Connor just stared back at him. He'd been unusually quiet until now.

"Fuck" was all he managed to answer, actually really surprised that Daryl would talk about this. His friend looked out of the window again.

"Got more fucked up the older I got cos I started t'fight back. He'd use his fists first, then his belt and later, even a knife. 'n after that, he'd come to my room the same night, _real_ drunk, say how sorry he was and apologize by doin..Grabbin me'n shit like..." he trailed off and pulled a face in sheer disgust, fists clenched, eyes nothing but tiny, angry slits. He swallowed hard once and then shrugged.

"Shit stopped when I got old enough, grabbed his huntin' rifle once and threatened t'shoot his balls off. Course, almost killed me over that, too, but at least shit kinda stopped after that. 'specially when my uncle Jess moved in cos he couldn' pay his rent no more. My Dad, he had this rule, nobody was s'pposed to see. Always told people I fell'n shit like that. 'n no one knew. Not Jess, not Merle, no one."

He looked at Connor after a while.

"Cos I never told anyone."

Connor swallowed a bit as well and then leaned against the wall on the other side of the window.

"Jesus fuckin Christ" he muttered and shook his head, feeling nothing but hatred for Daryl's father once more. He'd killed many evil bastards in his life. And apart from maybe Yakavetta, he had never wanted to hurt a man _this_ much. He clenched his fists and kept shaking his head in disgust. Although Daryl wouldn't talk about the details he could picture them and it just disgusted him even more. "I...dunno what t'say, actually."

Daryl turned around so he could lean against the wall as well and faced his friend, but he kinda had to stare at his feet because maybe he was a bit embarrassed.

"I ain't the kinda guy t'ask for yah pity…Hell, I don't want no one t'pity me cos that's just pathetic, and shit happened ages ago and it's over 'n done with, but…."

He took a deep breath and then really looked at his friend.

"Thing is, I like you stupid leprechaun, alright" he muttered and swallowed a bit. "A lot."

When the Irishman wouldn't stop looking at him as well he quickly looked out of the window again.

"'n shit like that just makes it…real fuckin complicated I guess."

Connor suddenly chuckled, which made the hunter look at him with a frown.

"Ye can fuckin talk. D'ye think it's any easier fer me? Geez, Daryl. 'm practically fuckin a guy who looks –exactly- like my fuckin twin brother. I mean yeah I get it, no real comparison and all but still. This _whole thing_ 's one big mess" he said and kept chuckling, obviously amused about how fucked up their entire relationship really was. Daryl had to crack a smirk as well, thinking the same thing although it actually wasn't supposed to be so funny at all.

"Yeah, except we ain't fuckin."

Connor just chuckled even more and really grinned by now.

"Noooo…'f course not."

Daryl smiled a bit as well and looked out of the window just like Connor. It was weird, really. He was still angry and disgusted and upset and felt dirty because of the things he'd just dreamed and talked about, and part of him knew that it would take him another whole bunch of years to ever –really- get over this whole mess. He'd thought that telling anyone about this would make him seem weak and destroy the image of the hardened redneck he'd been so determined to build up and keep, but now he was surprised to find out that something else was the case. He actually felt a bit relieved, like he'd been letting go of something big. And Connor didn't seem to pity him, no the fact that he was still cracking jokes and smiling actually made it easier and less freaking frustrating and upsetting.

"Thanks" Connor said after a while, no longer smiling or laughing. Daryl just looked at him and Connor added "Fer telling me."

Daryl just nodded, then it was quiet for a while until the hunter dared to ask.

"What're we gonna do now?" Their friendship and relationship, he meant, since they were on the 'admit' train right now anyway.

Connor nodded a bit as he thought about this until he turned his head and gave his friend another honest smile.

"Y'know what we're gonna do?"

* * *

"Come on, this is bullshit" Daryl snarled as he had a nervous look around their surroundings. Almost the entire town was asleep by now. Only a couple of lights were still on, and they could see the couple of people who were keeping watch on top of their walls. No one had seen them so far, but that still didn't mean he liked the whole thing.

"Shut it and keep walking" Connor hissed in front of him as they snuck around town, occasionally diving between houses whenever one of the people on watch duty turned around to check the town.

"No, I ain't gonna keep walkin cos they got a curfew for a reason, asswipe. They see us doin this shit, they're gonna start doin the same and it don't take too long and we lose track of people."

Connor stopped walking and turned around to give his friend an angry look and the infamous pointer finger.

"I said shut it. If yer being such a fuckin baby about it, then why the fuck are ye followin me, huh? Not so tough now, Mr _crossbow-redneck-nothin-but-thin-air_."

Daryl narrowed his eyes at his friend and considered punching him, but then just growled and nodded.

" _Fine_."

Who couldn't say no to booze after all.

They started walking yet again and Daryl kept having a couple of nervous looks around.

"How'd yah even know it's there?"

"Cos I fuckin know Charlie. We made te deal after all. Private stash ta ignore te storage 'n little alcohol rule. He puts stuff in there, I put stuff in there, win-win situation. Booze, cigarettes, te real fancy and valuable stuff. How'd ye think I always get new cigarettes and bottles so fast. Ye wouldn't believe what kinda stuff me'n Charlie smuggled in here from every single supply run we've ever done without anyone knowin."

Daryl frowned a bit.

"Sleepwalk Charlie?"

"Aye, that one it is."

The hunter snorted and followed his friend around a corner, to walk around a house and enter its backyard. Connor suddenly knelt down and crept behind a bush right beside the building. Daryl followed him a bit but still stood upright so he could keep an eye out and see what his friend was actually doing. It took some time but then he could make out something what looked like an old half-rotten dark-brown cabinet, half buried in the ground and covered with leaves. A moment later he heard the clinking of bottles and the rustling of plastic and paper.

"Addict bastard" Daryl said with a snort, which Connor only answered with yet another "Shut it." He then handed his friend two bottles of cheap and stale whiskey and two packs of smokes. "Fuck, those are the last ones" the Irishman complained. The hunter took the things with a frown and had a look around once more.

"Why didcha never tell me 'bout this and how the fuck did yah manage t'get it back here without anyone growin suspicious?"

Connor crawled back out of his secret hideout for his and the other guy's stash and cleaned his dirty jeans, only to give his friend a shrug and take half the things back from him.

"What can I say, one year 'n a max security prison and ye learn all sortsa useful things. I mean, how else was I gonna keep me'n my brother fed with stuff like this?"

Daryl snorted and eyed his friend head to toe.

"What, you? Tradin with gangsters?"

Connor shrugged once more and started walking.

"Desperate times call fer desperate measures. C'mon. Let's get outta here, have some fun."

Daryl followed him, once again looking back at the bush hideout, still confused and maybe a bit jealous because his friend hadn't told him about this one so far.

"Ain't the guy gonna notice when stuff is missin from his box?"

Connor snorted and already lit up one of the cigarettes he'd 'borrowed'.

"Bullshit, I'm the one putting most of te stuff in there so he better fuckin shut up about it. He should be lucky he got me, cos ye know, I can usually reach te better shit cos I don't have ta care about walkers. But yes, Ma, 'm gonna put it right back and get new stuff fer te fella. Top priority fer the next run. We're running low anyway."

He walked around yet another corner and then suddenly stopped, making Daryl run right into him with a huff.

"Ah, there it is! Fuck, tha's clever" the Irishman muttered to himself.

"Good lord!" the hunter exclaimed angrily and glared at his friend, pissed at him for just stopping without a warning.

"Will ye shut te fuck up now and get through there?" Connor hissed with an angry look on his face and pointed at yet another set of bushes and hedges.  
Daryl looked at them in disbelief and frowned.

"Ehm, nope? The fuck is this, leprechaun. Seriously. Yah promised me booze 'n not some…"

"How 'bout ye get that fuckin stick outta yer arse and finally just listen t'me fer once? Geez fuckin Christ" Connor snarled angrily, turned around then then got back into a crouching position yet again, only to disappear between the bushes.

"Leprechaun!" Daryl whisper-shouted angrily and turned around for a final time. They were still all alone in this backyard. The hunter looked back at the bushes, then at the bottle in his hand, only to curse and throw his crossbow over his shoulder.

"'m gonna kill that son of a bitch one day" he growled and then finally followed the Irishman.

There was too much climbing and fighting branches going on for a while, which prevented him from complaining too much. Just like before he'd had no idea that this place actually existed within Woodbury, and once again he was actually pretty angry that his friend had never really told him about all that. Sure, he didn't tell him about everything either, but still. It still pissed him off to hear that there were some parts of the Irishman's life he wasn't part of as well, that he didn't know and own everything about Connor.

He didn't know for how long they snuck around bushes and holes in walls that had been covered with metal plates and locks and all that shit. For just a couple of minutes it actually felt like Connor didn't even know where he was going, but sooner than later they suddenly found themselves back out in the open and much to their surprise: actually outside their part of town.

"Fuck yeah, 'm genius" Connor said with a grin as he had a short look around and rubbed his mouth, like he couldn't quite believe this whole thing had really worked and led them here.

"What the…" Daryl mumbled in surprise, staring up the side of an old abandoned building, one that actually looked familiar because he usually saw its backside from _inside_ their town. Connor had walked past him and back towards the wall to cover the hole they'd crawled through, locking it, covering it with leaves and branches and even an old tire.

Daryl walked closer to his friend, actually still a bit angry.

"What are yah, mental? How long'd yah know 'bout this hole and why the hell didn't yah tell me? You stupid? We can't risk any breaches, if people knew bout this, if lamebrains discover that shit 'n…."

"Shhhhh!" Connor hissed angrily, got back up and then finally looked at his friend as well.

"See, this is exactly te fuckin reason why I didn' tell ye about te stash til now. Yer still so far up Rick's ass ye would've told te others right away. And fer the record, I didn't know shit about this thing here either til Murph told me about it when I asked him how te fuck he managed ta get past watch duty and followed ye. I wanted ta check it out and since ye really need ta fuckin chill I figured why not try ta use it."

He turned around and covered the secret 'tunnel' a little more just to make sure.

"Looks like's been here fer a while, before our time here. Maybe one of te former Woodbury fellas dug it up ta flee from our dear Mr Governor every now and then, can't blame 'em."

Daryl just watched his friend, now with a worried frown.

"Yeah. 'n what if some of 'em are still using it t'smuggle shit in here behind our backs."

Connor slowed down for a moment, thinking about the same thing. Daryl was sort of right, this could be dangerous, since not everyone back in town really trusted their prison group and vice versa. There still was some tension, there still was some fear that someone could lash out and turn this into yet another war, but right now he didn't –want- to care. This was about him and Daryl and some fun time outside town, to let off some steam, to forget about the past and everything his friend had confessed earlier.

So he just got up, smiled a bit and then grabbed their stolen stash from Daryl, only to walk past him.

"Just fuckin chill once, alright" he said and then kept walking to get some space between them and Woodbury.

* * *

He couldn't really remember the last time he'd been doing random shit like this.  
He didn't even really know if he'd ever done something like this at all.

They just walked around the abandoned parts of town for a while. Drinking, smoking, talking about the most random things, killing a few walkers every now and then. Even now Daryl was still slightly cautious, he knew that what they were doing was dangerous, and although he really wanted to make that clear, for some reason he just couldn't. Not tonight.

He actually appreciated this whole thing, no matter how stupid it really was. But it just felt nice for a change, because this was different. They did not really have to fear too much out here. They were close enough to home, Connor wouldn't get attacked, and he knew that if shit got hairy, his friend would have his back and it wouldn't take too long to get back to safety.

He'd been in far more dangerous situations, when they'd _really_ been out here, in this abandoned, crazy world with no real shelter, and the constant fear of getting attacked by masses of walkers. But Daryl knew that there weren't too many lamebrains around here. Not anymore. They had swept the area multiple times. Each day. Just a bunch of hours ago he'd been out here, putting up traps, setting up future places for more walls. There were patrols each day, so really. Nothing they couldn't handle.

Right now this whole place felt like a massive playground for adults. Abandoned houses, an abandoned town, waiting to be explored although it had been explored ages ago. It didn't take too long and they found Woodbury's former local bar, and although Daryl insisted that it was useless going in there because they had looted the place ages ago, Connor still insisted that they should 'check the place out'.

The Irishman was slightly drunk by now and just beamed at his friend, telling him to 'brighten the fuck up and stop being all fucking emo' and that this was their 'boys night out'. In the end Daryl was just as drunk already because he had _wanted_ to get drunk after dreaming all this bullshit and actually talking about it, so he eventually listened to his friend and followed with an amused huff.

He still thought that this whole thing was stupid and slightly dangerous, but he trusted his friend, appreciated his friend's willingness to actually try and cheer him up when it was actually pretty late, when they were both tired, when the Irishman's brother was probably waiting for him to come back home. This was another reason why the hunter just couldn't say no tonight, he knew that he needed to take every opportunity he got to stay with his friend, because he had to share him now.

They did an entire sweep of the building just to make sure, because although they were slightly drunk they still weren't suicidal. But they weren't exactly surprised to find the entire bar empty. There were no walkers in here, no other scavengers, and certainly: no booze. Because this had been taken ages ago. Even corpses and any further carnage that might have been here once had been cleaned out before their getting here, by the Governor's people, ordered by Milton and Dr Stevens to keep disease out of their surroundings.

"I'll have a bottle of Jameson's and two pints, Doc" Connor said with a grin and immediately walked behind the bar to pretend that he was taking bottles from the empty shelves. "Oh why thank ye, yer right, make it an entire crate while yer at it!"

Daryl smirked and watched his friend fuck around for a bit, only to sit down on one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the bar.

"Be any more Irish" he growled with a smirk and took another sip on his own bottle, only to wince and shake his head because it still burned and tasted awful, but a good kind of awful.

"Oh aye, I can do that and.." he suddenly started talking in another language with a soft chuckle and drunk some more, too.

Daryl raised an eyebrow and then put his own bottle down, frowning.

"The fuck'd you just say?"

Connor beamed his grin at him and then climbed over the bar, a bit clumsy, and since Daryl was already drunk enough he even allowed himself to slap the Irishman's ass hard, since he was already kind of presenting it that way. Connor laughed a bit and tried to aim a lazy kick at his friend's arm but missed.

"Fucker" he chuckled and then finally managed, after some maneuvering, to sit down on the stool next to Daryl.

"That was Gaelic" he informed his friend then, regarding his previous question. The Irishman smiled yet again and then took another loving sip on his whiskey bottle as Daryl just watched him for a while.

"Been pretty long since I last spoke it. 'n Murph can't really remember it so…."

Daryl wouldn't say anything and Connor just had an almost longing look around the empty bar. He'd thought it to be way more fun, like his former nights out with dear friends but no, if he was honest this was actually quite frustrating.

"Fuck, I miss Ireland" he even admitted, and Daryl smiled a bit, because he actually liked that his friend was Irish. His dumbass leprechaun.

"Real Irish pubs, not boring ones like this one. Seriously, American bars. Goes fuckin nothin, have a look around, will ye?" Connor teased and pointed around the empty bar, nudging Daryl. "Yer people should be ashamed of themselves."

The hunter smirked as well, took another sip on his whiskey and then looked straight ahead, at the empty shelves.

"You don' know shit 'bout our parties, leprechaun."

Connor snorted.

"Aye, cos grump-ass you'd ever attend real parties."

"You betcha ass I went t'parties. Real ones, not pansy-ass riverdance parties."

Connor suddenly leaned his head against his clenched fist, closed his eyes and started laughing.

"Riverdance parties…" he repeated and laughed even more.

It wasn't even that funny, but he was drunk enough to find it funny.  
Daryl chuckled a bit as well, although he was still way more reserved about everything.

"What, that's all y'all Irish clowns did all the time, right?"

Connor just laughed even more and then tried to aim yet another kick at his friend with a chuckled "Fuck you!", only that he missed, lost his balance because of the sheer force and movement and fell backwards, sending the already shabby stool flying right down with him. He tumbled and reached out for the bar or something else to hold on to, and Daryl immediately reached out for him to hold him back as well, but it was happening too fast and Connor ended up falling off the stool, back connecting with the filthy rug in front of the bar.

"Ow, Jesus, fuck.." he gasped and immediately started laughing yet again. He decided to just stay where he was because everything was spinning a bit already. He didn't drink too much these days, simply because there wasn't much left. Combined with the little food they had, the constant heat and all the hard work they had to do each day it didn't take much to get him drunk , and this seemed to be the case now.

He couldn't stop chuckling and laughing because for some reason this shit was just so funny, because he was happy and because he actually felt quite comfortable today. For just a moment he buried the upper half of his face in the crook of his arm and kept chuckling to himself. It took him a little while, but he eventually and finally stopped laughing and covering his eyes and just looked at Daryl with a smirk, his friend who was still sitting on the bar stool and staring back at him with just about the same smile.

Connor blamed it on his own drunken state because there was no way in hell Daryl Dixon'd ever do something like this, but to him it almost looked like his friend was giving him an _affectionate_ smile. Even more surprising: there were soft chuckles coming from him as well, like Daryl Dixon, his hardened, grumpy redneck friend, was actually really amused and laughing with him for once.

But even now the hunter was still almost shy, reluctant, reserved. Like even after one year of changing so much and finally overcoming his inner demons, he still didn't want to just stop his inner struggle and actually life a little. And living a little was exactly the point why Connor had dragged him out here, with the intention to 'find a bar'. Of course he'd known that this one would be empty, just like all the other ones. Of course he'd known that there would be no other people, no music, no fun bar talk or bar fights or any stuff like that. But a night without walkers, without problematic people, without the past and nightmares, was as close as they could get to anything like the bar trips they'd done before the outbreak. It was the thought that counted, he wanted to share this with his friend to cheer him up, and it seemed to have worked.

So Connor just smiled back and tried to sit up.

"Alllright.."he grunted, trying to heave himself into an upright position. He then reached out for Daryl once more. "Gimme a hand. Everything's spinnin and I think I won't be getting off me arse t'night otherwise."

The hunter narrowed his eyes a bit, obviously growing suspicious yet again. He knew Connor's countless tricks and jokes by now. He knew that this could be a trap. But at the same time he totally had to agree. Connor was kind of drunk and obviously having a hard time getting up again. Daryl got off his stool after a moment, taking pity in his friend because he kept reaching out for him and looking at him like that.

"Should just leave yah annoying ass out here. Snack for the walkers" he muttered and offered his friend a hand. Connor took it and snorted.

"'cept they still won't eat me" he said.

Daryl snorted as well.

"Cos yah disgusting."

Connor grinned.

"Bullshit, 'm delicious and ye know it."

The Irishman then suddenly stilled and stopped trying to get up. He started grinning instead and then pulled a bit to tease his friend.  
The hunter immediately tensed his muscular arms and frowned.

"Don't yah dare."

Connor just grinned even more, pulling once more, but still not as hard as he could, not letting go although Daryl tried to shake his hand off.

"Leprechaun" the hunter warned and then Connor chuckled, relaxing his arm a bit.

"Alright, alright" he said, giving up and then moving some more to get up.

Daryl pulled again until his friend was half way off the ground. But then it happened anyway, Connor pulled _really_ hard this time, sending the both of them flying back down on the ground. The Irishman landed on his back with a grunt and groaned a bit when his friend landed half on top of him and accidentally burrowed his elbow in his belly during the process, then they just lay there on the ground for a good minute, with the Irishman losing the fight to a fit of laughter once again.

They clumsily tried to untangle their limbs and Daryl finally managed to heave himself up a bit so he could give his friend an angry glare.

"Happy, yah fuckin prick?" he growled, annoyed by how childish the blonde was acting right now.

Connor writhed a bit underneath him and just grinned.

"Oh aye, very pleased with meself" he said and kept chuckling until he finally stopped because Daryl just kept glaring at him like that.

The Irishman took a deep breath and then sighed, turning his head a bit to the right to stare outside.

"Jesus, Daryl. Ease te fuck up fer once, alright?" he muttered, a bit frustrated and angry because his friend was always so uptight.  
He finally looked at him again, not laughing, not grinning anymore.

"Te whole point of me dragging ye out here is ta make ye have some fun, okay. Ain't no point in livin in this fucked up world if ye _can't_ even live a little."

He tried to get up and moved, but his friend remained on top of him, making it impossible to do so.  
He tried again and then looked at the hunter, moving for a third time and then grunting in frustration.

"C'mon. Get off. Let's get back, 's fuckin late" he muttered, no longer joking, laughing or smiling.

Now his tiredness and drunkenness was actually showing. But Daryl just stayed where he was and kept looking at his friend, until he properly moved back down again and actually started kissing him.

It was different this time, certainly not violent or rough and heated. It was almost lazy even, the alcohol making it hard to do anything well aimed and rushed anyway. For a moment Connor actually looked at the hunter, surprised by this sudden action. He then started smiling into the kiss and responded to it, closing his eyes and giving in.

The hunter had just done it on a whim, because those words had strung a cord. Living a little. That was the point. His friend was right, he was always so caught up trying to survive and keeping others alive that he didn't even know anymore what it felt like to actually _be_ alive. Just like Connor he missed this old life, no matter how bad and fucked up it had been. But just like his friend he'd been to parties, to bars, he'd gotten drunk and fought with the wrong people and he'd done all that shit before just to feel alive, and he missed it terribly.

He was now actually grateful that his friend had dragged him out here, that he'd really just taken him here to cheer him up after all this mess earlier tonight, after the nightmare, the frustration, the hatred and shame. Right now he was just really fucking _glad_ he had Connor, this stupid leprechaun, the guy who always forced him to do shit he'd never do himself.

He wanted to tell the Irishman many things. The fact that he appreciated all this, appreciated him, he wanted to let him know how fucking _much_ he really meant to him, he even wanted to tell him all the embarrassing and girly stupid shit he'd been thinking earlier, that he liked his smile or stupid face, that he liked his stupid jokes and ' _fuck it, let's have a drink_ ' attitude, but of course, he wouldn't dare speak all that out. He knew that he would never really admit to anything that was connected to emotions and feelings, all he could do was act them out. With flying fists and harsh words and brutal blows when he was angry, or like in this case: with as much physical contact as he was willing to give.

They just stayed like that for a while until something needed to happen, and although he didn't want to Daryl just ended up getting a bit more aggressive by default. He stopped kissing his friend's mouth and moved down his jaw and then neck, breathing heavily, making his arousal obvious. Connor let out an aroused, gentle gasp as well and then suddenly spun his friend around so Daryl's back connected with the ground.

Just like the many times before the hunter looked rather surprised and freaked out by that. Connor looked back at him and then suddenly reached for his collar, and for a moment Daryl thought that his friend was going to take his shirt off, which he didn't like at all, not out here. But Connor wouldn't, he actually reached for what was underneath his shirt, the beads there. The Irishman grabbed his rosary and took it off, obviously feeling the urge to protect it from what he was about to do, like he was momentarily trying to take off his religiousness.

As soon as the rosary was gone and safely put away Connor dipped his head down once more and started kissing his friend again, this time a bit more aggressive as well.

Daryl felt really uncomfortable at first. It wasn't like this was the first time they were doing this. He was actually pretty used to it by now. But after dreaming about his dad and childhood just about an hour ago, feeling an other man pin him down like this again just made him feel really uncomfortable. He didn't like not being in charge, didn't like being vulnerable. He also suspected that the smell of alcohol was making it worse, because the both of them really smelled of booze by now.

He was still too tense and just tensed even more when Connor suddenly let his tattooed hand travel down his chest and then fished for the buttons of his dirty, sweaty and sleeveless shirt. He started to unbutton it, one, then two, then three buttons and snuck his hand inside, across his friend's chest, travelling left to right until it moved directly towards the spot on his right collar, where he had an especially long scar.

Daryl flinched and tried to move away.

For a moment Connor actually stopped, both the kissing and the touch and just looked at his friend, almost pitying him. He knew he was crap at this. He couldn't really comfort people. Except for Murphy, maybe. All he was good at was fucking with people, joking around and being a general ass. Murphy, his beloved twin, really was the only one he could comfort, love and be good with. Out of the two of them, Murphy had actually always been pretty good at comforting other people, understanding them, caring about them.

But Murphy wasn't here right now to probably give Daryl what he actually needed, understanding, the right words and deeds. The truth was that for the first time in his life Connor actually didn't want to let Murphy handle something like this and have something, someone, namely Daryl. No, this was something he wanted to handle himself.

He started kissing his friend yet again and moved the kisses down his neck and then, slowly and carefully of course, his shredded but now healed chest. He properly unbuttoned Daryl's shirt although his friend started to fight him and just went ahead, kissing some of the scars there, feeling them, trying to make them better.

The Irishman didn't like doing this too much either. Simply because he considered it way too fucking gay for his own liking. He had to admit that he really liked Daryl, but he still didn't consider himself gay. He was still grossed out by the simple thought of being like that with any other man, fuck no, he was all about women in that regard. But he still liked his friend too much to keep it in, he wanted to make him understand that his fucked up past and dreams were over and done with, he wanted him to _understand_ that there was nothing painful about this, especially since he knew that Daryl would probably never learn otherwise.

So he just went ahead for a while, kissing and feeling. It seemed to take the hunter forever but he finally relaxed, eyes even rolling back a bit as he let out a frustrated and yet aroused growl. Despite the fact that he felt rather fragile right now because most of his scars were exposed and because he wasn't on top he actually grew to like the whole thing more and more, simply because he had never been touched like that, because he had never _let_ anyone as close as this. What just made it worse was the fact that Connor travelled a bit lower and lower, and he really had to fight the urge to not grab his blonde and messy hair to press him even further down.

For just a moment Connor actually really considered it. He was just as aroused as Daryl by now and getting more energetic and heated by the second. His sex drive was getting more and more active already, daring to overpower his otherwise rational thinking. But since that one was still working though, Connor decided to let go and moved further up again. Because no. He knew that Daryl could use it to really relax, but although he liked his friend very much he was still too proud and too concerned with his 'manliness' and religious side to really go ahead and give the hunter a blowjob, although for just a moment he really wondered if Daryl had ever received one and wanted one. (Of course he did, he was a guy after all.)

He was actually glad when it was Daryl who interrupted and kind of stopped the whole thing, and the Irishman was even more grateful when the hunter wouldn't try to shove him further down and dare him to do it. Although he did grab him he didn't do it to press down but to move them around and switch positions, to stop Connor from doing anything, from doing the whole giving thing. Now he was supposed to be on the receiving end again.

For just a moment Daryl looked down at him with messy, sweaty hair dangling in front of his eyes which were hungry and wild, almost mad with lust from all the previous physical contact. The Irishman could already feel it, shy and reluctant Daryl had been replaced with his much darker and more violent alter ego, the one who always took over when it came to this, only amplified by the alcohol he had consumed tonight.

There was also another part that was driving the hunter, a part that his friend didn't really think about right now. He knew it was fucked up, but his previous nightmare also turned him into this, made him want to do it although they'd just screwed around a couple of hours before. But no, his dream made him want to be in charge, be on top, be in total control so he could actually be satisfied and not terrified by something like this, so this could be nice and not horrible.

He reached down for his belt and opened it with almost shaky hands because he was so aroused, the muscles of his dirty arms flexing and getting more pronounced with tension. For just a moment the hunter even thought about _using_ the belt, in his craze, to undo more of the past and to turn into the predator, not the victim. But of course, he did nothing like that. Not anymore. He wasn't too sure if he would've done it back on the farm when he'd been pretty much abusing Connor anyway, with all his beatings and crazy shit like that, but he knew he would never do it again because he loved the guy now.

So what he did instead was undo his belt and then unzip his trousers to free himself, only to do the same with his friend, who was pretty eager to help. For the first time it didn't feel weird or embarrassing, it actually felt necessary. As soon as they were somewhat free from the waist down (not undressed though, in case walkers or other people turned up and then needed to get the hell out of here), Daryl immediately lay back down and started grinding his hip while locking his friend in a sloppy, drunk kiss, even yanking at his blonde hair because he was getting desperate again.

Connor did the same thing to his black unkempt hair and turned this into a who could pull the most, who could hurt the most. The alcohol did a lot this night. It made them needier, more desperate and also less reserved, especially on Daryl's part. So much, that he actually thought about turning it into the real deal. For just a moment he even interrupted his whole biting and kissing his friend's neck thing, the thrusting, and actually looked him in the eye. _Fuck. He'd really just thought about actually_ _ **fucking**_ _Connor. What the fuck._

For a moment he even wondered. How this could possibly work, how this was supposed to work, if his friend would do it, but then he quickly shook these thoughts off, shoved his face back into his friend's shoulder and started thrusting against his thigh again. _No. No. No. They were just friends, he wasn't gay, Connor wasn't gay, they were just friends taking advantage of each other because they were both losers who were too stupid to get themselves women, who were too fucked up to handle proper relationships. And no, he wouldn't fucking think about it, try to imagine what the real deal would feel like, to actually have sex and be inside someone again, with something tight wrapped around his dick and…fuck._

The angle did it, even before Connor could manage to initiate the mutual handjob thing. Daryl even felt a bit embarrassed because he was back to the 'too early' thing again but it wasn't like he could stop it, he just flexed and tensed and bit the Irishman's shoulder to muffle his groan as he came between them, everything crashing out of his system until only the buzz of his orgasm and the alcohol was left.

He couldn't do much for a couple of minutes and just let Connor move against him until he was coming, too, muffling the groans just as much until nothing but their shaky breathing was heard.

"Yah dragged me outta here on purpose, asshole" Daryl muttered after a very long while of trying to calm down, still on top of his friend, still unable to really look at him. He shifted awkwardly and zipped himself back up, adjusting his jeans, closing the belt again.

"Aye, and 'm certainly not gonna fuckin do it again fer a while" Connor breathed and then clumsily did the same, fighting Daryl's weight on top of him.  
"'m too old fer this shit, think 'm gonna die fram comin too much in single a week. Fuck..."

The hunter actually had to laugh at that.

"Then don't" he said and then raised his head to smile at his friend, who answered with a quiet yet dirty laugh.

"Aye, ye'd like that, fucker. Think I gotta look fer a fuckin blowup doll fer ye on my next run so I can live in fuckin peace."

Daryl moved and then tried to get up with an exhausted huff.

"At least that one got tits, unlike you."

Connor snorted and reached for his rosary to put it back on. He then sat up and got up as well.

"As if yer interested in tits. If ye were you'd be fuckin Carol, not me."

"Maybe I am" Daryl muttered angrily and then quickly tried to wipe their come off his shirt, only to pull a face because he considered it disgusting.  
He was dirty all the time, but even he considered it gross.

Connor walked towards the bar to grab their bottles. As soon as he heard his friend's comment he grinned at him.

"Ahhh, look at 'im. Me boy's all confident now, what a sweet lass" he teased and tried to stroke his friend's cheek to piss him off even more, which he did with great success.

"Fuck off, jackass" Daryl growled and slapped Connor's hand away before he could touch him, which made the Irishman laugh. Connor just walked past him and lit a cigarette on his way outside. Daryl watched his friend leave and then had to smile as well, grabbing his crossbow and making sure they had everything. Before he left the bar though, and before Connor managed to walk outside, he decided to call out.

"Connor" he said and the Irishman stopped to turn around and look at him, curious look on his face, smoking cigarette in his mouth.

"Thanks" the hunter said and vaguely nodded at the bar to his right.

"For the drink 'n everything" he added, a bit awkward already. But he wanted his friend to know.

"Ain't nobody ever taken me on a night out before."

Connor just looked at him, gently biting at the butt of his cigarette until he smiled a little.

"Figured."

Daryl wanted to snap at him and immediately tell him that he knew how to party, that it wasn't obvious how lonely he had been before the apocalypse, what a waste of space with no friends he'd been. But he knew how his friend meant it so he stayed quiet and just nodded with a gentle "Hmhm."

For just a moment he wondered what it would've been like to meet Connor before the apocalypse, if they could've been a team, friends, how it would've been like to go barhopping with Irishman, to 'party' at an Irish pub with him. But he knew the answer anyway. If it weren't for the end of the world he never would've met Connor. And if he had, they wouldn't have become friends. Before the outbreak they had been from two different worlds. Two completely different people.

Connor, the easygoing Irishman, a guy with many friends from his local pub. A guy who was incredibly dependent on his twin brother, a guy who had achieved something, almost worldwide fame because of his killings, his cunning plans, his vision, his belief. And then there was him, Daryl, the frustrated, violent redneck. No real job. No achievements, not many friends. No girlfriend, no experience, slightly criminal past, fucked up family, despised by most people, viewed as redneck trash, seen as just as racist and drugged as his father and brother, although he wasn't like them at all.

So yeah. The answer was simple. If the outbreak had never happened, he and Connor never would've gone proper barhopping. They never would've met. Connor never would've cared so much, and in their old world with all those laws and rules and fanatics, they never would've dared to get sexual with each other. So he really was grateful for everything, this night out, their friendship, their relationship, the fact that everything had turned out so well, maybe even for the end of the world.

Connor nodded at the street outside with a smile.

"C'mon. Let's head back. 'm tired as shit."

Daryl nodded and followed him.

"Yeah."

They started walking and Connor offered him the pack of cigarettes.

"Smoke?"

The hunter looked down at the white sticks inside the package and smiled once more.

"Yeah" he repeated and took one, only to wait for Connor to light it even when he had it in his mouth. And as he took the first drag and blew smoke in the air, tasted the nicotine and remnants of whiskey and even the taste of his friend mix inside his mouth, he really and finally felt at peace. Comfortable. Liked. Worthy.

* * *

Connor entered his small apartment block with a smile, still staggering a bit because he was drunk, but it was a good kind of drunk. His mind was buzzing, his limbs were tingling from the alcohol and the after effects of his couplings with his friend earlier. He was just really fucking happy how this whole day had turned out, he was glad that Daryl was opening himself up, he was glad that the whole thing with Murphy had turned out great, everything was just… _perfect_ today.

If everything stayed like this, if Murphy turned more and more into his old self and if Daryl turned more and more into this new self then maybe the whole end of the world thing wasn't so bad after all, he thought and smiled even more, until another stagger nearly threw him off-balance. Connor managed to make his way over to the stairs and was just about to head up when he heard a heartfelt and deep cough to his right, which was accompanied by the sudden clattering and rumbling of what sounded like pots, buckets and crates. There was some more coughing after that, which made Connor frown and then head for the noise instead.

The coughing was coming from the room they used for their apartment block's storage. Water supplies, other hygiene articles, dirty and clean clothes. It was dark in there which only confused the Irishman more and even made him reach for his Beretta, wondering who was in there. It was probably just one of his fellow housemates but he was still careful about it, opening the door slowly and carefully only to see…Patrick. The kid with the glasses. Hovering above their water supplies.

Connor fully opened the door and frowned.

"Hey, are ye alright fella?" he asked, concerned because Patrick didn't look too good and because he'd just heard him cough earlier.

The teenager startled a little and then turned his head to the side to look at Connor, revealing his sweaty face, with his hair glued to his forehead.

"What...yeah. Yeah" Patrick answered and stepped away from the water barrel to search for a decent bucket.

"Just wanted to get some water" he said and coughed even more, making more noise as he rummaged through whatever was left.

Connor looked around the room some more, wondering where Patrick's aunt was, or what he was doing here anyway.

"..Why didn't ye just take some from yer bathroom? Ye shouldn't be down here this late all by yerself, ye know this is just fer emergencies, kiddo."

"Because the water system broke earlier, where have you been?" Patrick answered, again coughing until he found an old bucket.

Connor looked around in surprise. He hadn't known about this.

"Again? Fuck" he cursed, really hating how fragile their whole infrastructure still was. He remembered last time it had given in.  
The never-ending dragging water barrels up and down those stairs, the smell, the hygiene. Perfect.

Patrick filled the bucket with water and then drank some, only to swallow the wrong way and start coughing once more. He dropped the bucket and nearly spilled all of his water, coughing and coughing. Connor finally came closer and gave Patrick's back a couple of pats to help him get rid of the water in his airway. Patrick's coughing against his chest sounded really heavy and dangerous, and that worried the Irishman.

"Ye don't sound too good, could get a cough. Maybe ye should go ta Dr Stevens and Milton tamorrow, ask yer aunt ta take care of that, aye?"

"I'm fine…"Patrick gasped and then grabbed his bucket again to head for the door.

"D'ye need…"

"I said I'm fine" Patrick repeated and kept walking, waving the Irishman off with his free hand. "Just don't…don't worry about it. It's probably just..just one of my allergies" he argued, his voice very raspy from all his coughing. Which he resumed on his way upstairs. Connor watched the teenager leave with a sigh and then shrugged. "Suit yerself" he muttered and then decided to take a bucket of water himself, just in case, because he wanted to get cleaned up anyway, and to make sure Murphy wasn't dying of thirst.

* * *

He found his sibling in their bed, sound asleep, snoring a bit, just like he always did. Connor closed the door shut as quietly as he could and then put the bucket full of water down for a moment, to just stand there and watch Murphy sleep. It made him smile again. Smile and incredibly happy. He felt a bit uncomfortable about having left Murphy alone for so long while he'd been with Daryl, and he really hoped that Murphy didn't bear a grudge because of that. He couldn't wait to get in bed, to wrap his arms around his sibling, enjoy his presence and then get his well deserved sleep, but he was very keen to get all the dirt, smell and other stuff off himself first, so wouldn't raise too much suspicion.

The Irishman grabbed the bucket again and lifted it off the ground to carry it inside their bathroom.  
He was halfway there when he suddenly had to stop again, because he noticed the piece of paper by the table lamp on Murphy's side.

One of their pictures. One of their pictures was right there.

Not the one he had taken and shoved into his emergency bag. No that was the one Murphy had taken of them when he hadn't been looking, when he'd been looking at his brother instead. Connor smiled even more, his heart missing a beat.

_Fuck._

_He really fucking loved him._

That was all he could think about. He really loved him. His brother, the other part of his soul, the man who was sleeping in his bed, the man he'd grown up with, the man he'd kind of raised and protected all his life. The man he had hurt last year in Boston, the man he had betrayed, but the man who was obviously really starting to forgive him. To love him again. Who'd maybe even start looking at him like that again, like he meant just as much to him, like he meant the world to him as well.

Connor let out a happy but pain filled gentle chuckle, actually fighting tears. That's how much the picture on the bedside table meant to him.

The weight of the bucket in his hand reminded him of what needed to be done first. Connor cleared his throat and finally entered the bathroom, (still staggering and now even more because of the weight of the bucket), reaching inside the sink to press down the plug. He then filled some of the water inside the sink because he wanted to use it to get cleaned up.

After maneuvering the bucket back on the ground, right next to him (and that took some effort because damn the world was spinning down there), he got rid of his shirt and then threw it in the corner. He filled the glass he had placed on the sink with water and then grabbed the washrag from the small cabinet to put it in the water, to watch it get soaked. He then proceeded to get the dirt off his arms with it, to get Daryl's dried spit off his neck and then cleaned his chest a bit, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

Even now he couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop liking the way he felt right now, or even the way he looked.

It was really fucking obvious that he'd fucked someone today. He thought so at least. Like there was a flashing sign above his head, pointing at his faint bruises, the larger bruise on his neck which Daryl had caused two days ago and where he had lost the band-aid that had been supposed to cover it up, or the way his hair looked, even messier than usual because of the way it had been pulled earlier.

As soon as he was done with the washing part he quickly tried to sort his hair a bit and then grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste to brush his teeth, at least trying to get rid of some of the stench of alcohol (and Daryl as well because fuck it, they'd been almost fucking eating each other today). He then let the water down the drain and filled his glass with water from the bucket once more to actually drink it this time, once again watching himself in the mirror.

He put the glass down and then grabbed his rosary instead, still looking at himself, thinking about many things. He was pretty conflicted by now. His rosary was a constant reminder of what he was supposed to do and what he was supposed to believe in. His rosary reminded him that everything he had done today was wrong. But it felt fucking right. And only because of this did he feel fantastic today.

He didn't want to let it spoil his mood today. He decided that he was going to deal with it tomorrow.

Connor grabbed his rosary and then moved his up to his mouth to kiss it.

_I'm sorry._

He felt a tiny bit better right then and there and turned around to head back, only to stumble and almost fall over the water bucket.  
It tumbled and then fell down, spilling the water all over the tiles and making the bucket clutter loudly.

"Fffffuuuck" Connor whisper-shouted angrily, momentarily freezing in the spot to listen up and hear if he'd woken Murphy up. A couple of seconds later he heard a gentle snore from next door and relaxed.

 _Fuck_ , was he drunk.

He cursed himself for being such a clumsy idiot sometimes as he knelt down and quickly grabbed the bucket to put it out of the way. There was no water left in it, it was all over the tiles instead. There was no way he was going to go back down and get some more water now. Fuck no. All he did was trying to mop it up a bit until he finally managed to go to bed (this time without tripping over something.)

Wearing nothing but a fresh pair of briefs now he quickly crawled under his blankets and tried to move up to his sibling who, much to Connor's dislike, stilled a bit and then opened his eyes. For just a moment Murphy looked at Connor, blinking tiredly, blue eyes piercing and making the older MacManus feel like his brother could see right through him. He even swallowed a bit.

"Sorry" he whispered and meant the bucket and his whole having awoken him.

"Te fuck've ye been" Murphy muttered sleepily, shifting a bit and wrapping himself up even more.

"Checking shit outside" Connor answered and tried to adjust his siblings blanket.

"Sleep on, now. 'm here."

"You stink like ye drank a fuckin bar" Murphy complained and turned a bit away, adding a slightly pissed "Withou'me."

"I know, I.." Connor just said and rubbed Murphy's covered arm, more touchy-feely because of the alcohol. The younger MacManus just looked at his twin, saw the now uncovered bruise on his neck from where Daryl had apparently bit him, and just like yesterday he could immediately tell that there was something about Connor…something he was trying to hide. And now the smell and the way he always got changed first..

"Ye were with Daryl" he observed, eyes narrowing a bit. Connor looked surprised at first and then looked away, making it even more obvious.

"Well aye, no going out there on yer own, remember."

Murphy looked at Connor for a very long while, observing him in his drunken state, the new scratches and bruises, his everything.

 _Last night. The talk in the alley._ He still couldn't stop thinking about that. The way both Connor and Daryl would always change the subject and never really answer whenever he asked them directly. He even widened his eyes a bit when it finally hit him, but he decided not to speak it out. But Connor's whole behavior said it all. The _smell_ gave it away.

It really freaked him out. Really did. It even scared him a bit. He didn't want to lose his brother, the one he'd just found again, to the fiery pits of hell. Not because of something like this. He did not know what had happened to him to make Connor tumble down such a godless hole, only that losing him seemed to have cracked something inside of him, making him cling to someone with his face like _that_. Because there was no denying it now. He knew it.

Connor and Daryl.

And all the nights out, all the trying to cover it up but not really being able to disguise it.

They were _fucking_ each other.

Murphy knew it now, but decided to ignore it, simply because he was too tired and surprised right now. He wanted Connor to tell him himself, he wanted him to confess and understand and open himself up to the fact that this was wrong. Murphy did the only other thing he could think of right now, in this tired state, despite the fact that his brother smelled of alcohol.

Just like earlier today he decided to let Connor know that he was okay with the near, needed it in fact. He really hoped that this was what Connor really and only needed. _His_ near. _Their_ connection, _their_ kind of love. Not this other fucked up thing. He didn't need that anymore, _he_ was right here now, right here and back. So he moved closer and wrapped his arm and leg around him, cuddling up to his chest a bit, trying to keep Connor here as well. Keep him on the good side, the pious side, with him, to make him love a man with his face the _brotherly_ way he'd always done, not the unholy way he seemed to be doing it with Daryl now.

Connor, unaware of Murphy's thoughts and intent, responded to the almost hug and cuddled up to his sibling with an incredibly pleased and gentle sigh as well, utterly grateful for this gesture, a different kind of love than the love he'd felt earlier with Daryl filling his heart.

His drunken state and the position he found himself in made it easy for him to fall asleep right then and there, because he was more than exhausted. Murphy just clung to him and stared at his brother's bare belly, watching it rise and fall, rise and fall, wondering if there was some way to undo everything that had made Connor turn to this, if their connection was already strong enough to stop it.


	20. Infected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the new kuddos and comments. Here's a new chapter for you.
> 
> The first part of this chapter might seem a little cheesy and OOC. I just wanted some more Conphy first, to get the issue off the table before the next thing. The next thing obviously being...chaos! More chaos. There's gonna be more and more trouble with each chapter now. Tehehe. Like one reviewer said. It's the apocalypse! Shit's gotta hit the fan!
> 
> That's it with the 'people who are just talking and arguing and drinking and Connaryl screwing around.' There is going to be some more Connaryl of course because it is a shippy fic ( to answer a question: they're probably gonna go allll the way, but it's gonna take a looooooooooooong while). But still, I'm all about plot :D This chapter also pretty much contains my first bit of Connarphy interaction that it somewhat civilized compared to their beginnings. I hope I kinda got them right. The truth is that I'm still having much trouble writing Murphy's character and getting him right because I'm not used to writing him compared to my Connor and Daryl. So please be kind ._.
> 
> We're already on episode two now and I'm gonna keep writing TWD season material, but not as much as I did in Salvation. I'm gonna keep shoving my own stuff in here.

Connor just sat at the edge of his bed for a while, his fingers moving through his messy hair and gently massaging his scalp. Today….was a shitty day. He had a terrible headache, his arms and legs hurt and he felt slightly sick. The older MacManus groaned a bit and closed and opened his eyes rhythmically, trying to make it better.

"You alright?"

He raised his head to look at Murphy, who had just left the bathroom and headed for their cupboard to get some of the clothes they shared now.  
Connor watched him walk over there and nodded after a moment, clearing his throat.

"Aye…aye..just fuckin hung over…Had a bit too much last night…" he muttered and got up to head for the bathroom.

"There's no fuckin water, man" Murphy informed him and reminded Connor of his little encounter with Patrick last night.

"Right, I forgot, fuck" he said and then tiredly walked over to the cupboard as well only to slow down and start chuckling.

Murphy put his shirt on in a way only he could, putting both his arms through the sleeves at once, another reminder that this was indeed and still Murphy MacManus, which just made Connor smile even more, despite his headache and general hangover.

"What?" the younger MacManus asked, scratching his nose and looking at his brother with a frown.

Connor smirked at him a little more and then walked past his brother to get himself some clothes as well.

"Nothing, just reminded me of te old days in Boston. Ye always kept complaining about the lack of warm water."

Murphy just looked at him for a moment, obviously trying to remember and a tiny bit upset about the fact that he couldn't.  
But he tried to hide it with a nonchalant shrug.

"Cos it fuckin sucks."

Connor chuckled once more and cleared his throat.

"Aye, it does. 'm gonna mention it at te council meeting later, see what we can do 'bout that. Don't worry, 's not exactly the first time this happened."

"Yeah well, 's not te thing I worry about" Murphy muttered quietly, quiet enough for Connor not hear it.

There was a pause after that until the younger MacManus spoke again.

"We didn' have hot water back in Boston?" he asked quietly, a bit embarrassed because he couldn't remember but also pretty curious about their shared past.

Connor shrugged with a little smirk.

"Sometimes. Our apartment was a real fuckin shithole. But it was ours. And hey, we had two showers, top that. No walls, but still. Two showers. Real fuckin five star hotel material."

Murphy smiled a little and fell silent once more, trying harder to remember it. But there was nothing. From the moment the bullet had entered his brain. Nothing.

He looked at the blonde to his left with a gentle sigh as the both of them got dressed next to each other, something he still didn't like too much because of the ugly scar on his shoulder. But right now he was too occupied with other thoughts anyway, and it wasn't like Connor didn't have a scar on his shoulder as well, only that this one was far less ugly and mangled. And yet it wasn't the scar he was worried about but the bruise a bit higher up Connor's neck, the one that was no longer covered and didn't look too much like a bite anymore, but that still looked prominent enough with all the blue and red there. It made him curious once again.

"What did ye do last night then? Didn't turn up at te barbeque but ye were still drunk, so…"

Connor stopped moving for a moment, his mind obviously buzzing with thoughts.  
He didn't look pensive on the outside, not to strangers, but Murphy could already read him, although he couldn't quiet explain it.  
He knew he was trying to _come up_ with something.

"Aye, Daryl wasn't really in the mood ta join the barbeque thing and we kinda…talked a little about all the stuff we did during the day, lost track of time and shit and then we walked the perimeter a bit and boozed it up ta make up fer the party we missed." He let out a soft laugh and pulled his shirt over his head. "A whole bottle 'a cheap whiskey ta be precise. I thought I was used to it, but fuck was I wrong. I feel like shit today" he said and chuckled some more, rubbing his forehead and then smiling at Murphy. He even tried to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, but Murphy once again avoided the touch, just staring at him.

"But we can celebrate later today if ye want. Just the two of us?" Connor just offered then and walked away from the cupboard.

Murphy turned around to just watch him pick the place up a bit.

"So what, just cos I don't remember shit ye think I can't tell when yer lying?" he asked quietly, actually kind of hurt. He didn't know how close they had been before all this, but his guts told him that they had been close enough and that Connor lying to him was just wrong. The blonde MacManus stilled and let out a gentle sigh, relaxing a bit and looking down for a moment, only to turn around and look back at his brother.

"What do ye want me ta tell you then, Murph."

Murphy just looked back at him.

"The truth might be a fuckin start" he mumbled and wouldn't break eye contact.

But Connor did. He chewed on his lips and looked outside the window for a while, contemplating how he should approach the topic.

"Well…maybe there's some things ye don't wanna hear and shouldn't hear about then cos…"

"I'm yer fuckin brother" Murphy interrupted Connor and still wouldn't stop looking at him. He moved his hand around to point around the room. "And like it or not, ye dragged me here and yer stuck with me now, so…"

"'f course I like it, don't talk stupid now, yer right, yer my fucking brother and I.." Connor snapped but just like before the younger MacManus wouldn't let him finish. "And this is exactly te fuckin point Connor!" he said, a bit louder this time. He looked out of the window as well, trying to keep his temper although it was pretty hard since it was pretty easy for him to lose it.

"Te 'bite', the late nights out, yer fuckin changing clothes the minute you…the, the fucking smell. I told ye, the bullet made me ferget shit, but it didn't make me fucking stupid. I know what's up with ye and te fucking redneck, alright. I pretty much knew right from te off. And ye can be all vague and shit, but _I know_."

Connor let out an angry snort, moved his hand through his hair and turned away with an annoyed "Jesus fuckin Christ."

Yeah, he knew it was mean, but he had kind of counted on Murphy's little problem there. He hated himself for the shot, still wished that he could undo everything, and curse him, but he had wished for their connection to have died out a little because of the shot, if only in that case. But of course not. They still shared this weird kind of twin thing, and it made him incredibly happy, just not in that part of his life. Right now he hated that Murphy could read him, that he could feel everything and just _know_ everything.

"I know it should be none of my business and who am I ta tell ye shit after…" Murphy began and there was a pause as Connor gave him a long and angry glare. Murphy let out a defeated sigh. "I just got ye back and yer the only person and the only family I got left in this schtupid fucked up world and I just don't wanna lose ye, alright? There, I fuckin said it. I lost enough shit in me life with the..memory loss and the bite and Augusta, so I don't need ta lose any more or anyone else."

Connor's face lit up a little at first, surprised by these words. He even tried to come a little closer.

"'m not fuckin going anywhere, Murph. Alright? Not anymore. Just.."

Murphy frowned angrily and moved away a bit.

"No, you don't…I don't mean like that, Connor. I mean this" he said and grabbed his rosary, only to point at the tattoo on his arm. "If there's one thing I didn't forget then it's him up there" he said and pointed at the ceiling. "He's watching, he's protecting us, we got those tats for a fucking reason, Connor. Don't exactly remember which one but fuck it. He watched over us, he saved our lives so many times and brought us back together and _this_ is how ye thank him?"

Connor looked at the tattoos, feeling his own ones pulsate. He felt guilty. Of course he did. He'd been raised this way. Murphy was right, he had those tattoos for a reason. He'd had this job for a reason. He'd been killing bad guys for a reason. He'd had a calling before all 'd been called a fucking _saint_ before all this. Sent by god, the one entity he'd sworn to serve, the one entity he had ones loved as much as Murphy. And of course he still loved him and didn't want to disappoint him. Of course he still believed in him but maybe…not as much anymore.

So he let out an angry snort and frowned.

"Oh did he, huh? I don't remember him answering my calls and prayers, I don' remember him saving my ass or bringing ye back when asked fer it every single fucking day, and I don't remember him cutting te rope when I was pretty much done. No, as a matter of fact, te _fuckin redneck_ did. _He_ found me, _he_ saved me ass plenty of times, _he_ brought me to te place where I found ye. _He_ did. And maybe this is my kind of little sayin 'thanks fer fuckin nothing, god'."

"And what if _god_ sent him ta do this fer him, ta let ye know that he heard yer prayers, ever thought about this?"

"Well if he did, then what te fuck is so wrong about taking te fuckin chance he offered me?!" Connor spat and Murphy fell silent. The older of the two took a deep breath and then sat down on the bed, massaging the bridge of his nose because his head really hurt. Everything hurt, he was tired, and most of all: he was sick of fighting with Murphy when they were supposed to be getting better, when they were supposed to celebrate their reunion and be like they had used to be with each other before all this mess.

"I mean fuck it, Murph. Trust me, I know it's not right and I know it's against what we've been taught but fuck it. This is the 21st fucking century. Or whatever's left of it. And we've never taken everything literal. Ma didn' do it either, by the way. Neither did Da. We're part of a drunk, fucked up family of…of serial killers fer fucks sake. Sure, we did kill fer _God_ , but he still says we shall not kill. And all the other shit we did and bent te rules fer. It's just one more of those. And Jesus fuckin Christ, 's not like ye see me going out there humping every guy's leg. Don' be fuckin disgusting, 'm not like that. It's just….fuck" he growled and looked away, angry, disgusted, ashamed, at loss of words, not quiet understanding his own fucked up mind and feelings.

Whenever he was with Daryl he was actually pretty fine. Didn't feel guilty, didn't even think about the bible and god that much. He was busier trying to actually _enjoy_ the rare occasions when he was actually calm and happy after the clusterfuck of the past couple of months he had been through _. Just how the fuck could he possibly explain to someone that he still wasn't into this sort of thing, didn't even **like** men in general and saw it as gross and wrong except for when he was with that __**one**_ _fucking guy? He couldn't even make sense of it himself!_  
  
Murphy got angry. He hated how he just happened to sympathize with Connor, how he had to agree there. He knew his religion argument was bullshit. Or maybe it wasn't. The fact was that he –couldn't- remember, couldn't really remember what his own beliefs had consisted of, what he had believed in, what had been important to him and Connor, why he had those tattoos and why he felt such a strong connection with god. All he had left was his gut feeling, the one that was telling him that this felt wrong, that he didn't want it. Religion had been his only real explanation and excuse, and Connor had just stripped it away like that. And he had insisted on Connor telling the truth, so maybe he just needed to stick to that one as well to make it easier and end this mess.

"Yer right, fuck that. But it's still fuckin wrong cos he got _my_ face, alright? That's the shite I just can't understand, that just makes it fuckin gross. He's…he's practically like my _twin_ , fer fuck's sake. How would you feel and what te fuck would you say if I turned up with some dude with yer face and told ye that I replaced you with te guy while you was gone and that 'm _fuckin_ him now!"

"Well I would fuckin congratulate ye on yer great taste and shake yer hand fer at least pickin a handsome fella if ye really gotta fuck a dude!" Connor roared and Murphy fell quiet for a moment, only to start snorting with laughter.

Connor did the same although he didn't want to. He gave Murphy a tired smile and then leaned his head down to shield and close his eyes for a moment, battling the headache and frustration with a tired "Fuck's sake." He felt the bed shift after a while, the mattress giving in a bit right next to him, under the weight of his brother, who'd sat down next to him. Murphy stopped chuckling and let out a loud exhale.

"We're so fucked" he muttered and Connor nodded.

"Aye. That we are, Murph."

It was quiet for a while until the older MacManus looked up.

"'s really not about ye. 's not even about te way he looks at all, okay" he tried to reassure his sibling, and Murphy cocked his eyebrow a little.

"Figured. Te guy's ugly as fuck. 'n filthy."

Connor let out yet another unwanted snort and massaged his forehead once more.

"Ye've been saying that about every single person I ever went out with, yah little bastard."

"D'ye love 'im, Connor?" Murphy asked after a while, repeating the question he'd asked a couple of days prior.  
And this time his brother actually took the time to think about it and gave him an honest answer.

"I guess, I kinda…I dunno. I guess?"

He looked at Murphy for a while and then looked away with a snort.

"Sayin anything right here would make it fuckin gay anyway and trust me, Murph. 'm not. And that's te fuckin truth, cross my heart" he even said and did the cross his heart thing with his left tattooed hand, the _Veritas_ making it even more important and honest. Murphy chewed on the inside of his cheek and nodded, watching him for a while until he smirked a tiny bit.

"Still pretty fuckin gay" he teased and Connor boxed him with a gentle huff.

"Yer te one who wanted ta fuckin dye his hair faggotty pony-boy blonde once."

"Fuck ye, I didn't" Murphy defended himself although he couldn't remember this conversation.

They just sat next to each other in silence, both lost in thoughts and trying to make sense out of everything and most importantly: still trying to get used to each other again, all the new information.

"D'ye remember when we were kids and you.." Connor chuckled once and looked at Murphy. "We were playin behind Ma's house and somehow this turned into this whole big thing were ye wanted ta propose ta me and we told Ma we was gonna get married cos we didn' wanna lose each other and when Ma told us that this doesn't work we'd..stick our heads tagether on yer bed under te blankets and promised each other that we'd stay together fer te rest of our lives? No marrying women no havin families, just te two of us til the day we die? Pinky swear, blood brothers and shot of Ma's fuckin disgusting whiskey ta seal the deal and all that shit…"

Murphy just looked at Connor, not nodding or shaking his head because he didn't want to admit to the sad fact that he couldn't remember this important moment either. But he certainly liked the sound of that, it sounded right, so he just stared and waited for his brother to continue.

"And it was always real fuckin easy ta stick to that promise til now, Murph. Never really fell fer all the pretty gals down at McGinty's, never thought about _really_ proposing to anyone, make Ma proud and fuck it, I don' think I even can cos I just can't…I don't feel shite in that regard. Not with women or guys, no one, I just don't. I doubt I'll ever get a wife, have kids…white fence and all that shit. We're not made fer that. 've always been fine, living with ye, I'd die fer you, I'd never fuckin leave ye, not on purpose, not ever after….well. But the thing is…" he swallowed a bit and looked away because the truth was that he was slightly embarrassed by how cheesy all of this really sounded.

But he wanted his brother to know, he had learned to speak things out the moment he thought them and the moment he was with the person, because he had learned how easy it was to lose this person, to watch them get lost, leave or die, just like that. Because if there was one thing he regretted apart from the headshot, then it was the fact that he had never actually _told_ Murphy how much he really meant to him.

"That past year? All the bullshit that happened? It showed me how stupid this promise really is. How fucked we really are. I was a useless piece'a shit without ye. Daryl's the first person who actually matters ta me next ta you. And it took me what, 37 years ta let someone other than you in? Te point is…I really like te guy. Can't help it, sucks he's not a chick, but it happened. And I think it's a good thing. Fer the both of us. You'n me, I mean."

Murphy grumbled a little bit and Connor took a deep breath.

"Maybe we just…gotta wrap our brains around the whole 'sharing' thing."

The younger MacManus twin snorted.

"What, like ye _can't_?"

Connor laughed once more.

"Yeahhh, maybe yer right there. I don' wanna know what 'm gonna do should ye find yerself a sweet lil gal here."

Murphy chuckled as well.

"Yer such a fucking asshole."

They both chuckled once more until Murphy fell silent, contemplating this. It was scary how comfortable he really felt around the man next to him. And how weird was that. Connor had shot him, 'betrayed' him, and it was still so easy to connect with him, to tell him everything, to be all fucking 'girly' and stupid when he'd always kept the whole thing in during the past year.

"Don' think 'm ever gonna get te white fence thing either" he admitted after a long while, and this was the ugly truth.

He'd met a few pretty women on his way around destroyed America, down to Augusta. One or two had shown interest in him. Even here there were some pretty women. But for some reason he felt…nothing. He was strangely okay on his own, like he just didn't need it. Didn't need anyone but a strong shining figure in his life, no matter if it was Simmons or now Connor. Sometimes he wondered if there was something wrong with him, if the bullet had really fucked him over, if it was just the stress or the whole trying to survive thing, and maybe this was also the main reason why he was against the Connor and Daryl thing.

He was jealous. He was jealous because he didn't have a bond like this of his own, because maybe he couldn't, jealous and maybe a bit scared because he really didn't want to lose Connor again, because he was already way too used to the high praise and attention from his twin, because he didn't want it to stop, no matter how annoying Connor's mother-henning really was.

Connor, unaware of his brother's train of thoughts, just snorted.

"Bullshit. Ma already heard the church bells ringing fer you 'n Regan O'Leary, at least until ye broke up with her cos she suggested a fuckin threesome and kicked me in the nuts when I kindly told her ta fuck off."

They both chuckled once again until they fell quiet and Connor sighed.

"We're not really…y'know" he muttered after a small pause. "I mean, me'n Daryl we're just… kinda…." he muttered and moved his hand through the air in a smooth motion, awkwardly trying to explain himself a little more, but his brother blocked his efforts. " _Fuck_ I so don' wanna know" Murphy said and quickly got off the bed to walk away, which made Connor smirk. The younger MacManus walked towards the window only to turn around and look at his brother again, chewing on his lips, folding his arms and contemplating it, until he threw his hands in the air, in defeat.

"Whatever ye think ye gotta do, do it. Doesn't mean I like it, doesn't mean it's right and certainly doesn't mean I wanna know te details just…" he growled and looked down. "Fuck it, alright. Just…" He then looked up again and looked Connor in the eye, almost pleading. "Don't leave me cos of some guy with my face? Not after draggin me all the way up here."

Connor looked at his sibling for a very long while, smiling a bit because he knew that this was as close as he was going to get to some sort of approval right now. Because their relationship and bond was still fragile, because everything was fucked up, but he knew that Murphy was showing him a bit chunk of trust right here, when he didn't even have to, certainly didn't need to. And he really appreciated this, appreciated that the whole talk had turned out a whole lot easier than he'd thought. He loved that this was his old Murph right here, his clingy Murph, his little brother who was addicted to some lovin because he'd been spoiled with that all his life from both him and their mother.

"'f course not, Murph."

Silence. Murphy nodded awkwardly.

"And it's really not about te fact that he _kinda_ looks like…"

"Shut up and get me some fuckin hot water, Connor."

* * *

They both went back downstairs to go their separate ways for a while. Not only to really chew on everything they had just talked about, but also because they were already integrated in different schedules. Murphy wanted to check on Rick's garden and their new animals first whereas Connor wanted to talk to some people, get ready for this day's tasks, get their food, their water, fresh clothes.

They wouldn't quite talk about it but they were already falling back into their old patterns, with Connor being way more aware of that simply because he could remember them and because it was a habit, and simply because Murphy was acting out his gut instincts. Connor was kind of back to his old tasks. Taking care of their shared household. Doing the 'housewife crap' whereas Murphy took care of their animals, their contacts, their work.

Connor was having a bit of a hard time because of his hangover, his headache and the fact that he felt like puking sometimes (note to himself: don't drink too much during the apocalypse, you're _not_ used to that shit anymore), Murphy was having a bit of a hard time because of something else entirely.

The pigs.

The pigs didn't look too good.

He entered the arena with a worried frown, eyes fixed on the animals who were just lying there in the sand, not really moving, looking sick. He turned his head just to make sure their horse was doing alright and she was just standing there, under her little improvised roof. The horse looked okay so he was a little less worried but still, that was a bit weird.

Rick was also just standing there, up early just like the days before, shovel in his hand, motionless, looking at the pigs with just the same worried frown, trying to figure them out.

"They don' look too good" Murphy observed and used it as some sort of greeting as well. Rick turned around for a short moment to look at the Irishman, even reaching out a bit to greet him with a handshake. Then he turned his head again to get back to the whole staring thing. Once Murphy was standing right next to the former policeman he did the same.

"I don't know what's going on with them" Rick said, shaking his head. "Could be lazy, could be nothing…could be sick…"

Murphy observed the animals a little closer and frowned. Rick let out a little gentle sigh.

"Maybe that's the reason why the old farmer gave you those two. To get rid of 'em."

The younger MacManus put his hands on his hips and chewed on his lower lip, thinking about this, getting a little angry.

"Huh. Could be."

Rick shifted a bit.

"We'll keep an eye on them, get Hershel to take a look at them. Maybe it's just the heat…" he muttered and then nudged Murphy to get him to follow him. "Let's go, I got some more work for you, if you're up for it."

Murphy nodded eagerly.

"Aye, 'f course" he muttered but fixed his eyes on the pigs once more, only to kneel down a bit and pat one of them.

"Feel better, fellas" he told them and was just about to follow their leader when all hell broke loose, and shots could be heard, coming from inside a building of their town.

* * *

Daryl had just left his apartment complex when it happened. Loud, muffled shots echoing through their town, muzzle flashes, reflected in the glass of the countless windows that belonged to the other, larger apartment complex, the one Connor and Murphy lived in. His first and most basic instincts told him to panic, to lose his shit and mindlessly start running because this was _Connor_ 's apartment block, because his friend could be in danger, because something weird was going on, because there was screaming and gunshots and chaos going on inside.

He was just about to really freak out and start shouting for his friend when he suddenly saw him right there, just across the street, three doors away from the complex, where he'd just been talking to Hershel and his daughters. For just a moment the hunter actually relaxed, relieved to see that his friend was obviously doing fine. But then there were more gunshots. More screaming until the door finally burst open and one of the children came running out, screaming her lungs out.

"HELP! HELP! PLEASE!"

"What's going on?!" someone yelled back, every movement and action inside Woodbury coming to an abrupt halt, all eyes fixed on the door, the apartment block where all the noise was coming from until someone broke the news they all feared. "WALKERS! WALKERS IN THE RED BLOCK!" screamed another person who came running outside, blood splattered all over his clothes. Then there were more people, screaming, trying to get out through the door.

Everyone started running at once.

"WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER BLOCKS?" Rick's voice echoed through main street, coming from somewhere to Daryl's left.

A second later he heard another voice ring through all the chaos.

"CONNOR!"

So Murphy wasn't in there as well. _What a shame_.

"MURPH!" Connor shouted first, making Daryl's guts twist because he didn't like the sound of that at all. He tried to ignore the brothers, tried to ignore how they ran for each other instead of towards the building, which he decided to do instead.

It literally felt like hell inside the apartment block. There was chaos. The screaming was deafening, the smell of death and blood was in the air. People that had once been part of their community, that had lived here inside this building, had turned into walking corpses within minutes or hours, some of them mutilated and bloody, others looking almost fine. People who were desperate to get outside were stumbling down the stairs, falling over each other, some of them fighting, some of them struggling with walkers on top of them, some with bites, some still healthy, some dead.

What made it even messier and dangerous was the fact that people kept running inside, whereas others were desperate to _get out_. The people coming in were trying to help and sort everything out but crowding the place and making it even more chaotic by default. The second Daryl managed to finally enter the building he already had to fight and stab two walkers, a third one on his way towards him. He was just about to stab the guy as well when someone else did it for him. The first thing he saw was the knife pretty much right in front of his face, then he recognized the arm, the shirt. _Connor_ was right beside him, looking at him for a moment, eyes wide, obviously just as shocked and surprised as all the others.

"You alright?" he asked and Daryl gave him a surprised nod.

"Yeah, you know what the fuck's goin on here?"

"I got no fuckin clue" Connor breathed and was shoved by someone, a second later Murphy popped into view as well and saved a screaming kid from getting bit, stomping the attacking walker's head with his foot. "Te place was fuckin fine like a minute ago!" he shouted but they didn't have any more time for conversations or discussions and questions, because it was getting more and more chaotic by the second.

"Make way in front of the stairs! Only use the right side to get up, the others: get the hell out of here!" Rick yelled somewhere behind them, obviously trying to sort this mess out somehow. There were still some people falling and tripping and running but the place was clearing out a little more.

It still got hotter and hotter inside the building simply because there were so many people in here, because there was so much fighting going on, because they could almost taste the panic. Just like Rick Connor started shouting commands at people, trying to somewhat organize this rescue mission in such a tight and crowded place, occasionally grabbing a kid and handing it over to running adults who were on their way out. Murphy was pretty close to his brother, working with him but more focused on actually executing walkers and infected. People started spreading out and checking floors and apartments, telling clean and healthy inhabitants to lock their doors and wait for it to calm down, killing already infected and feasting housemates, guiding panicked children and other survivors down the stairs or to the next closest window.

There was lots of screaming going on but all the men in charge, people like Rick, Connor or Glenn managed to somewhat get it under control, their commands certainly helping the other people who were trying to help. It took about ten minutes until the chaos slowly subsided.

Murphy was the first to reach top level, with Daryl right behind him, living up to his 'walker killer and not in charge kinda guy' status as well. Connor was a bit behind because he was still busy with Rick and the others, obviously different than them, because he _considered_ himself a 'in charge kinda guy', someone people liked to go to and listened to, someone who was needed downstairs.

"Are we clear down here?" they heard the former policeman shout.

Connor yelled a stressed and angry "Yeah!" right back, giving away his location. "Murph? Daryl?" he then yelled, even louder this time.

Murphy and Daryl looked down the stairs for a moment.

"Doing fine!" Murphy shouted back, reassuring his sibling and then looking at the hunter who just looked back at him and huffed but wouldn't say something, no matter how stupid the situation and comment really was. They then start walking to check out the final locked door.

Murphy approached the door and reached for the knob, only to stop and look at Daryl, who just nodded, knife in his hand ready to stab or be thrown. There was no time for arguing or hating each other and calling each other names. They were okay with the fact that they happened to have come up here first, so they worked together. Murphy nodded and then tried to pull the door open.

It was locked.

For a moment there was nothing, then it suddenly started rattling, followed by the unmistakable growling sounds of a walker.

"Got one" Murphy said the moment he felt the movement and then looked at Daryl once more to make him understand.

The hunter nodded once more and positioned himself.  
Murphy gathered his strength and started kicking at the door multiple times, harder each time until it was thrown wide open.

"Now!" he shouted and immediately moved out of the way. Daryl worked fast right then and there, quickly observing their surroundings and checking for the number of walkers inside and that within seconds. As soon as he'd made sure that there was only one he immediately threw his knife at the stumbling walker, burrowing the weapon deep in its eye socket. With that the last walker of this apartment complex dropped to the ground.

Both Murphy and Daryl were breathing heavily and looked at each other, once again nodding and silently acknowledging the other's work until Murphy stormed inside the apartment to check for any more walkers. Daryl had a careful look around the now abandoned corridor and then entered the small apartment as well, retrieving his knife, already feeling the secret need to make sure Connor's stupid brother was safe and being looked after, if only just for Connor.

There was no undead left.

Only the incredibly mutilated corpse of a woman down the corridor. The walkers had eaten too much of her, leaving nothing worth reanimating. Daryl still stabbed whatever was left of her head, just to make sure. Murphy silently crossed himself behind the hunter, muttering a quick prayer for the woman he'd just talked to during the barbeque yesterday.

They wouldn't speak although they would look at each other every once in a while, obviously surprised by their sudden teamwork but too shocked to really talk about it.  
They had a final look around until Daryl kind of ended the whole thing with a growled "That's all of 'em."

They were just about to head for the stairs when Daryl suddenly slowed down, eyes fixed on the body of the last walker they had killed, inside the apartment with the locked door. He approached the corpse and Murphy followed after contemplating what he should do, only to decide that he should stick with Daryl since he was all alone up here, staying to keep an eye on the stupid redneck, if only just for Connor.

"That was Charlie" Daryl suddenly observed and Murphy frowned, getting closer because he recognized the name and now..the person. He'd talked to him just yesterday, during the barbeque. He remembered him because of his way of eating the deer meat, which had been…interesting to watch (disgusting. That was the right word.) Daryl sniffed once, trying to pull some snot back and then knelt down next to the bloody corpse to examine him a little closer because he looked different compared to the other bloody corpses they had seen. He did have the hole in his head from where he had just stabbed him but other than that…

"No bites, no scratches…" he observed, being awfully reminded of last autumn when he and Connor had found a guy just like that, same age, snapped neck and most importantly, no bites.

"His eyes look kinda weird" Murphy observed and pointed at the trails of dried blood which had run down his cheeks at some point, like his eyes and even ears and nose had been bleeding. Daryl frowned a little and chewed on his lips. He poked and turned Charlie a little more. "Guy used t'sleep walk. Locked himself in to stop himself from wandering off" the hunter muttered and then pointed at the door which Murphy had kicked in. "It's why that one was locked."

Murphy looked up as well and then fixed his eyes on the corpse again.

"Then how te fuck did he turn? Ye sure he doesn't have any bites?"

Daryl glared at the Irishman.

"You blind? No, 'm tellin yah. Guy's clean."

Murphy wanted to snap at the guy but decided not to. He was too puzzled by the whole thing. Both men looked at the corpse a little while longer until Connor's 'protector alert' went off again and he started yelling for the both of them. Daryl got up with a little huff. "Let's get back, emo kid" he grunted and Murphy followed him after a while, but not after having stared at Charlie's body a little while longer.

* * *

"No bites… no wounds…I think he just died" Rick observed as he looked at the bloody corpse of Patrick, the teenager Murphy and Connor had just been talking to yesterday and who was just lying in front of the stairs now. They were all standing around the body, looking down with worried frowns. Both MacManus twins were there, just like Daryl, Dr Stevens, Milton, Michael and Bob. All the other residents had been either ordered to leave the apartment block or helped with the whole getting rid of the bodies process.

"Horribly" Dr Stevens observed as she took a careful look at Patrick, moving his bloody head around some and staining her gloves with blood during the process. "Pleurisy aspiration."

"Choked to death on his own blood" Milton added to explain, looking at the others who just looked even more worried and puzzled.

"Explains those trails down his face, aye?" Murphy muttered, chewing on his fingernail.

Connor smiled and nudged him a bit.  
Daryl just rolled his eyes, really wanting to say ' _No shit, Sherlock_ ' but deciding to leave it be. Especially because Murphy looked at him then.

"We saw 'em upstairs. Just like those, on one of the corpses, on what's his name…"

"Charlie" Daryl growled. Connor widened his eyes a bit.

"Charlie? Fuck…"

"We've seen them, too. Just outside the walls. Me, Tay and Terry. About two weeks ago on one of our runs. There were a few freaks. Walkers with those…trail thingies" Michael joined in and Daryl shifted. "Thing with Charlie is…" he spoke up and everyone fell quiet to look at him. "M and I found him with the door locked. Turned, just like the others. No bites like Patrick, same trails of blood... Whatever caused this, ain't no walker's fault cos Charlie was all on his own up there."

"There was no walker needed for this" Dr Stevens interrupted their chat and pointed at the bloody trails once more. "The trails are from the internal lung pressure building up inside the body, like if you shake a soda can and pop the top. Just imagine your eyes, ears, nose and throat are the top."

Murphy pulled a face. Daryl frowned even more. Connor moved a little, letting out a frustrated "Jesus…"

He cleared his throat a little and then looked at Dr Stevens.

"I met 'im…last night. When I was on me way back ta our flat. He was downstairs ta get some water, didn't exactly look healthy. He was coughing pretty bad."

"Coughing, high fever, anemia, pleurisy, hypoglycemia. It might be pneumococcal…I think we're dealing with a very aggressive flu strain here."

There was silence for a very long while as everyone let this sink in. It felt like a slap to their faces, they all suddenly felt very aware of all the corpses that were being moved around them, the fact that they were standing right in front of one that had been infected with that. Connor swallowed hard when he remembered how _close_ he'd been to Patrick even before this, his coughing, his sick but still alive presence. "The water system broke yesterday" he managed to say and everyone looked at him again. The Irishman looked up the stairs and let his gaze wander around the corridors, only to fix his eyes on the ground, as if he was trying to look inside the room with the emergency water supplies.

"Everyone from this block had ta get water from the barrels downstairs. I think…fuck, that's right, I forgot… I think he coughed right into that one. He was coughing all over the place" he muttered, paling more and more. He then looked at the ceiling. "Could explain why Charlie turned, could explain why it got outta hand so quick. He might've infected some more, I think I heard more people cough last night."

"Aye, me too" Murphy muttered, just as worried because the both of them had been sleeping inside this very building last night. He wasn't afraid of the walkers because both he and his brother were immune, but he didn't exactly like the sound of 'the flu' and sicknesses that made people choke on their own blood. He was now really glad that there had been no fucking water this morning, and that both he and Connor had been too lazy to get some right away. He'd never been so happy to have missed out on a shower, to be all dirty and sweaty _because_ of the lack of water.

"How could somebody die in a day just from a cold?" Daryl growled, just as worried but a little sceptic because he couldn't quite wrap his head around all this.

"We found our new pigs today. Knocked out, just lying there" Rick suddenly said and Murphy widened his eyes a bit, remembering that.

"Aye" he agreed and then looked at Connor, nudging him a bit.

"Motherfucker must've tricked us. Maybe they were sick and that's why he wanted 'em gone. Maybe it's their fault, brought it inta town with us?"

Connor snorted in disbelief and rubbed his nose nervously, more and more freaked out by the whole thing, constantly remembering _the fucking water_.  
The water he'd used to get cleaned up yesterday night, the water he'd brushed his teeth with, the water he'd _drunk_.

"Don't be stupid. Patrick wouldn't even get close ta animals, we didn' touch shit and didn' infect people either, the pigs were nowhere close this building and even if they were, 's bullshit, those are pigs, not people. Pigs don't infect people" he said, trying to play it down, trying to calm himself down although he knew that pigs _could_ transmit diseases and infect humans. But he just looked at Dr Stevens and Milton again, asking a silent _They don't, right?_

"I talked ta te fella last night. He said 't was one of his allergies. Maybe he died from one of those, turned, went crazy and infected others."

"Don't explain Charlie, man" Daryl said gently, looking at Connor.

"Pigs and birds" Milton suddenly spoke up, voice a bit shaky and obviously not really liking all the attention. But then he kept talking anyway. "That's how similar flu strains spread in the past. I did some research, for…for my project on infectious diseases similar to the ehm, walker infection. It's easy really. Easier than you think. It is highly probable that you could've brought the flu in our town with just two pigs."

Dr Stevens nodded and looked at Murphy and Rick.

"You should certainly consider getting rid of your livestock" she said and then looked at Patrick's body again.

"And give me some samples of their meat, stool and blood. So I can run some tests on them, see if we could use the data somehow" Milton added quickly, looking at Rick.

Dr Steven's sighed, still observing the bloody mess all around them.

"Maybe we got lucky this time. Maybe these two cases are it" she muttered and then got up, only to point at Rick. "Anything else might be on you. Next time you bring animals close to my patients, you get them checked _first_."

Bob snorted.

"Haven't seen anybody be lucky in a long time. Bugs like to run through close quarters. Doesn't get any closer than this"

"Fuckin ray of sunshine, y'are?" Murphy said angrily and snapped at the newbie, even shoving him a little because he was freaked out by the comment.

Connor immediately stepped between them, secretly way more freaked out than his brother but still trying to calm him and everybody else down.

"Just..just relax Murph, alright. Dr Stevens is right. Maybe those two are it. Ye know how it is, shit blows outta portion these days, just one walker and shit hits te fan. Maybe 's not so bad after all. All we gotta do now is get cleaned up, get te place cleaned up, check yer pigs and then everybody needs ta calm down and we're gonna figure this out. We're gonna be alright."

"I'm not so sure about that" Milton spoke up and Connor gave him an angry glare, which kind of intimidated the scientist a little.  
But Dr Stevens wasn't afraid of Connor, she just looked at him and then everyone else.

"Damn right, sunny. You've all been exposed. I can't risk this blowing out of portion. These two cases might be it, but they might not and we need to make sure it stays the way it is right now. I cannot risk any more of my patients getting exposed or infected. You should seriously consider separating the ones outside from the ones exposed, Rick."

"Aye, and everyone have a little faith while yer at it and stop lookin so fuckin scared. I said we're gonna be fine. Alright. We just gotta believe. Geez" Connor growled and gave the two scientists and the newbie a little angry frown.

Daryl snorted.

"Yah really wanna turn this into a religion versus science thing right now?"

"Yeah, don't talk too big, Irish. You're the one who brought those pigs along after all" Michael said at the same time, which made the Irishman look at both him and the hunter.

"Oh yeah, why don't ye go fuck yerself then? Both of ye" Connor said angrily and gave them a glare, but only just because he was still the most freaked out of them all, although this actually surprised him. Daryl was just as surprised by his friend's choice of words and looked at him with a frown.

Connor looked back at him and swallowed a bit, only to let out a gentle sigh and look away.

* * *

"Hey, you might wanna stay back" Rick said as they all excited the building and Carl came running at him. A whole mob of people had formed in front of the building, all waiting and looking at the people who left the scene of chaos that had happened just a couple of minutes ago. Everyone was curious, everyone was watching as Carl hugged his father and apologized and talked to him, despite the policeman's tries to keep some distance between them.

"What happened in there?" Maggie asked as she tried to run for Glenn who exited the building right after Connor, Daryl and Murphy.  
But just like Rick her fiancé tried to keep some distance between them.

"It's alright, I'm okay, I'm okay."

As soon as Carl was done hugging his father and finally backed off Rick looked at the crowd and tried to explain, subconsciously stepping right back up as leader.

"Patrick got sick last night" he explained, looking at each and every one of them.

Connor, Daryl and Murphy stopped walking and turned around to listen to Rick's speech as well, Murphy a bit nervous and fidgety, Daryl with a worried and slightly angry look on his face, and Connor not really looking at anyone or anything, lost in thoughts, chewing hard on his lips with just about the same worried frown as he tried to figure this mess out.

"It's some kind of Flu, it moves fast.." the former policeman went on, and the first bunch of eyes widened, the mumbling started, and people got nervous. There was some muttering and a few angry or scared "What?!"'s and "How can this be happening?!"'s or "We were doing just fine yesterday!"'s going through the crowd. Rick closed his eyes for a moment and raised his hand, trying to calm them down.

"We think he died, turned and attacked the apartment block, but we got it under control now, there are no walkers left, we only know about two cases in this building and we…"

The muttering just got even more excited. Rick momentarily reacted to the shocked expression on his son's face.

"Look, I know Patrick was your friend and I'm sorry. He was a good kid" he said and then raised his voice once more, looking back at the crowd.

"We lost a lot of good people. But we got it under control with other good people. We managed to stop the attacks and stopped the turning, but most of us were exposed, we were all in there so you better step back. You shouldn't get to close to anyone that might have been exposed, at least for a little while."

"How do we know who is infected?"  
"How did it even get in here?"  
"What is this disease?"  
"Can we treat it?"  
"How much medicine do we have left?"  
"What about Doctor Stevens?"

Everyone started shouting and asking at once, overwhelming Rick, the one person in this town who didn't even want to be in charge anymore, the person who had spent the past couple of weeks farming, not killing a single walker, not being part of the council, not being part of anything. Connor closed his eyes and pressed two fingers to the closed lids, massaging them a bit to stop the buzzing headache, to stop the worry, to blend everything out, shaking his head while the talking and questioning got louder and louder until he was fed up with it.

"Alright, now calm the fuck down, will ye?" he snapped angrily and everyone fell quiet, surprised by the sheer volume of his voice.

Hungover or not, if there was one thing Connor was good at then it was being loud.

"Shit like that happens all the time, and it happened ta every single one of us before, don't lie ta me. We know what te deal is, you die in this world and you come back as a walker, and dat's what happened in there. Nothing more. We only saw two guys with te symptoms in there, namely Charlie and Patrick, and we all saw 'em yesterday at te barbeque, they were doing just fine a couple of hours ago" he explained and took over the talking part once more.

"Which means that it only takes te flu a couple of hours ta show symptoms and _maybe_ kill people..."

He raised his voice once more when people tried to talk again, obviously freaked out by the kill line.

"We're gonna be cautious, we're gonna quarantine this apartment block right here, burn te bodies and separate people who've been exposed from te people who weren't even in here when it happened and we should be fine. We got enough houses here, we can divide this town and make sure nothin spreads, we got two doctors and a scientist here, we got some medicine, we're a whole civilized _town_ fer fuck's sakes. So calm te fuck down and listen ta Rick, Dr Stevens and Milton, listen ta the council, that's why we formed that shit after all. We're no visionaries, we don't know who might be infected, we can only decimate the number of possible infected by being fuckin smart about this."

Everyone looked at him a little while longer, then the talking started again, only a little quieter this time. Andrea and Hershel stepped up as well, trying to help Rick address the rest of their town whereas Connor just walked away from the whole scene, really needing to calm down again, to get some space between himself, those annoying people, the building, the whole scene.

 _Of course, shit like this had to happen when he was fucking hung over._ _Oh how he cursed Charlie's fucking cheap whiskey today.  
Charlie, that poor motherfucker who was dead now._

He wasn't exactly surprised to see that both Murphy and Daryl followed him, although he actually kind of wanted to be alone right now.

"Ye think it's gonna spread?" Murphy muttered, occasionally turning around to check out what was happening with the crowd now. He had aimed his question at Connor but Daryl actually spoke up, eyes fixed on his friend and noticing his slightly strange behavior, only to decide that maybe Connor needed a minute after his speech and probably didn't want to be bothered by his annoying fuckface of a sibling anyway.

"We killed every undead son of a bitch in there, didn' we."

"Aye, but what if it's airborne or shit like that. Even back in the old days people got infected by just touching a freakin doorknob…."

Connor was staring at the ground, watching each tile of the sidewalk pass by, hearing Daryl and Murphy talk about the flu issue, hearing his own blood pound in his ears, wondering the same fucking thing.

_What if it was going to spread._

It had just taken a couple of hours to turn Patrick from a silly, normal teenager into a coughing mess and ultimately…into a bloody, walking corpse.  
And he had freaking _touched_ the kid. Patted his sweaty back, felt him cough against his chest, he had taken the water the kid had probably coughed into.

He wasn't some OCD sissy who felt the need to wash his hands every two seconds because of some germs. He'd come in direct contact with many fucked up disgusting things in his life, living in a shitty apartment in Boston, getting drunk in shabby pubs and being friends with a mobster or killing said mobsters. But still. _This._ This thing right here, seeing the bloody, big eyes, the blood on Patrick's nose, mouth and ears, that freaked him out a little. Because it had happened so _fast._ Because he'd been _really_ close to all this.

_Got infected by just touching a freakin doorknob….._

He remembered every single time he and Murphy had gotten sick together, simply because they had shared a room, shared clothes, because they had always been so close. Always infecting each other and making their Ma go crazy over this. He remembered that their entire fucking world had gone to shit because of a disease, an _infectious_ disease which had turned and infected the _entire fucking continent_ in less than two weeks. He then remembered how he'd felt when he'd woken up today, even now he still felt the headache, the…

He took a deep breath.

Whiskey.

Cheap, fucking whiskey. Too many cigarettes, too much fucking, too much work yesterday. He was just hung over, he was just tired, he was running on little food, no breakfast and too much alcohol in his system. He was fucking _fine_.

"…gonna burn the bodies, and the entire freakin block if we gotta and _we're gonna be doin just fine_. Now brighten the hell up, emo kid. Rick got it covered. And your bro's right. We got Maggie's old man, four eyes, Dr S…Gonna be a walk in the park. Nothing we can't handle. Nothin we ain't dealt with before."

Murphy scowled a little but wouldn't say anything because his eyes were fixed on his brother as well.  
Daryl did the same thing but then quickly looked away when he noticed that the younger MacManus was watching him watch Connor.

"Besides, yah two nutjobs are immune t'walkers, practically turns yah int'the Invincibles with all y'all leprechaun mumbo-jumbo anyway."

Silence.

"Con?"

Connor shook his head a little, cleared his throat and then looked up, beaming his grin at his brother and best friend.

"Aye. Yer right" he said, just agreeing with whatever the hell the two of them had been talking about.  
He then nudged the both of them, making Daryl move out of his reach and Murphy frown a little bit.

"Just look at me boys, getting along, at last…best friends ferever…. The A-Team... "

"Fuck yerself."  
"Ain't gonna be no friends in a million light years, screw yah."

Both Daryl and Murphy said at the same time, trying to be extra grumpy and hateful if only to disguise the fact that they were pretty surprised about how well they actually got along.

The three of them slowed down a bit when they got close to Daryl's apartment block, the parking lot there and the town hall, which was pretty close by. Murphy had been following them just because he didn't know what else to do and because it was already kind of a habit, following Connor, walking next to him wherever he led him.

"You alright?" Daryl muttered, looking at Connor, once again noticing his strange, introverted behavior.

The Irishman just nodded and looked back at the crowd, where they could see Hershel, Glenn, Sasha and Carol walk away and heading in their direction as well.

"Yah can stay at my place, if yah want. Block's gonna be crammed with people anyway, with everyone movin out and getting your place quarantined" the hunter offered, trying to get his friend to talk to him this way. It bugged him that Murphy was with them right now. He wanted the guy to be gone for Christ's sakes. He hated how he couldn't just outright ask Connor what the fuck was up with him. They didn't work like that with other people around.

The younger MacManus frowned a little and didn't exactly like the offer either, the whole thing made him pretty angry as well. Of course, he didn't want to be sleeping on the street tonight and he sure as hell didn't want to go back inside their apartment block with all the infected bodies. But right now he didn't even know what was really worse. He sure as hell didn't want to be stuck in a room with Connor and Daryl. Not after getting the confirmation that the two of them were, well…. He even shivered a little in disgust, trying hard not to imagine how fucked up this whole thing could be.

Not that he really thought Connor was gonna do anything like that with him around, but still.  
Yikes, yikes yikety-yikes served on a plate of _fuck no_ in jealousy sauce.

"Aye" Connor said, nodding once more, just watching the rest of the council get ready.

Hershel gave him a little nod when their glances met, making it clear that an emergency council meeting was about to take place, the one he'd seen coming anyway. The Irishman took a deep breath, still a bit worried, cautiously watching the rest of Woodbury buzz with fear, worry, questions. The oldest of the three then looked at his friend and brother.

"Alright. Let's go see where everybody stands, what we're gonna do, what's gonna be official. Murph, why don't ye lay back a little, stay away from the danger zone and people, get tugged in at Daryl's place and…." He trailed off when his twin was giving him _that_ look. The incredibly annoyed eye roll, the look that said ' _I can't believe you're doing this shit again_ '.

Of course Connor did. Without thinking. It was in his guts, now, once again, more than ever. Of course he wanted to protect his sibling from this possibly deadly disease, the infection that was perhaps dormant right inside their town. Of course he would love to see him just go and lock himself up, to lock this fucked up world outside and save himself from any danger, especially since it had only been about a week since their reunion, since their relationship was still so fragile and only getting started.

But he also remembered the promise.

_Stop. Stop treating me like a focking baby all the time._

And his eyes said it, the look said it.

 _Take me with you to this stupid council meeting._  
  
Connor pressed his lips together and studied his sibling's face for a moment, only to turn his head and give Daryl a questioning look. Just like him and Murphy he and Daryl had become rather good at the silent communication thing, so he asked the question with just that look. The hunter frowned a little and looked at waiting Murphy who had his eyes fixed on Connor only, eyes narrowed, challenging, stubborn, but also, and much to his and Connor's surprise, rather authoritative.

Daryl never talked about it, he never tried to think about it, but this was the truth: He considered Murphy MacManus pretty fucking tough.

He hated to admit it, but he even thought that the guy was actually _stronger_ than Connor. Emotionally at least. His friend was still a bit unstable and cracked from last summer, had never –really- recovered from all the shit he'd been through after Boston. He considered Murphy to be worthy, smart enough to be with the council, simply because him and Connor were already a package deal. The twin status. It was undeniable.

And another unpleasant part about this truth. Daryl was actually with the guy here. Agreed with him. Connor was acting like a jackass whenever it was about something like this. He was acting like a fucking _chick_ sometimes. The other part of the MacManus duo deserved it. And he knew it. The hunter rolled his eyes a little and looked back at Connor with that annoyed look on his face, only to give him a slight and almost invisible nod, giving in. Connor nodded as well and then kept eye contact a little while longer than necessary, just staring at Daryl until he finally looked back at Murphy.

"Alright, let's go after 'em. _Murph_ … Daryl."

The older MacManus twin then turned around and started walking to lead the way towards the town hall, using his position with his back turned on his brother and friend to frown angrily and shake his head, lips pressed together in frustration. He hated how they were already using their combined force to play against him, how they were using their two versions _of the same fucking face that_ _he loved_ to make him surrender and give in when he _didn't_ _even fucking want to_.

Murphy followed with a little pleased and smug smile, Daryl just brooded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, maybe? No? I don't really know how many people actually like my writing. I kinda see that I'm on the top five pages with my fics in the Connor/Boondock Saints tag, with one or two fics even on the first page hits-wise, but some Walking Saints fics are getting far more hits and comments and that got me wondering. Is is cos of the pairing or because of my crazy 'random German chick trying to sound all English although she doesn't have a fucking clue about English grammar' writing?
> 
> Random thought: I'm thinking about writing a Connaryl/Conphy triangle fic.   
> Other random note: I'm also writing a shippy version of my Salvation fic right now (I love the angst and abuse topic okay)  
> I got a Walking Saints problem.


	21. Ambush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kuddos, hits and comments on this fic. Looking good! I'm glad that you like it =) Here's a new chapter for you. Lots of things going on. Some more Connaryl will probably happen in the next chapter.

They were sitting around the table, just like two days ago. It just didn't feel like any other council meeting. Everyone was nervous, everyone was slightly freaked out, everyone was tense and serious. Connor, Daryl, Hershel, Carol, Sasha, Wendy and Glenn were there. Michael was nowhere in sight, but Murphy was there instead and having a curious look around. He didn't feel too comfortable around all those people although he knew them, and he instantly went back to his nervous drumming his fingers on the table or picking at his nails.

He was sitting to Connor's right, so at least this way he was feeling –somewhat- comfortable, because as long as his brother was there everything was going to be okay. And right now he was actually happy and glad to be here, that the man next to him had actually let him in and stopped mother-henning him like he was some fucking baby.

And just like before he couldn't stop watching Daryl watch Connor, because the hunter's eyes were really fixed on the Irishman now. Daryl's frown made Murphy curious so he looked at his brother as well. Connor was unaware of the fact that he was being watched, he seemed strangely absent-minded and just stared at Murphy's drumming fingers, lost in thoughts.

"Patrick was fine yesterday and he died overnight" Carol started the council meeting and looked around. "Two people died that quick? Dr Stevens is right. We'll have to separate everyone that's been exposed."

Connor finally looked up and pressed his fist to his mouth, still thinking but now actually listening and looking at the others.  
And since he was looking around now Daryl immediately stopped looking at him and looked at Carol instead.

"That's everyone in that apartment block. That's all of us. Maybe more."

"Everyone who was at te barbeque yesterday and around Charlie and Patrick, everyone who consumed te water from that block….." Murphy added.  
Swallowing a bit when he remembered his chat with Patrick yesterday.

Connor tensed and swallowed hard, too, once again slightly crept out. _That would be you._

 _Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Why the fuck had he been so stupid and drank it instead of getting bottled water. What the fuck._ _He'd never done anything as stupid and reckless before. He was usually pretty smart and considerate about everything, but this? Why they fuck had he drunk that much last night? Why the fuck had he decided to leave town with Daryl instead of just staying with the guy and sleeping in his bed for the night?_  
  
"We know that this sickness can be lethal. We don't know how easily it spreads. Is anyone else showing symptoms that we know of?" Hershel asked and Connor looked up, feeling like he was being watched.

No. He wasn't showing symptoms. He was just hung over. He was freaking immune, he'd had a great night yesterday, he had survived two walker bites, he had Murphy back right now so he needed to be there to look after him, he wouldn't freak Daryl out because he knew how his friend was going to react. So fuck the fact that he'd been so close to Patrick and that he had touched and consumed the infected water. He wasn't coughing, he didn't feel hot (apart from the general feeling hot because of the damn heat) and he just had a headache because of the alcohol.

He decided to say nothing. At least until he was absolutely sure he was infected or wasn't infected.

Connor turned his head and looked at Murphy.

"I talked ta Patrick yesterday at the barbeque, and I was pretty close t'im. I don' know if…." the younger MacManus said in regards to the anyone showing symptoms question. He didn't feel sick and didn't feel any different, but he felt the need to tell everyone that he'd been pretty close to patient zero before all this.

"Don't worry. We're alright, Murph" Connor immediately said and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder to squeeze it and reassure his sibling.

"We don't know that for sure" Hershel said and Connor gave the old man an almost hostile look.

"Yes we do. Me 'n Murph we're different. 'm pretty sure we can't get sick cos we're immune and we carry the walker stuff inside us."

Wendy widened her eyes.

"What?"

"Ain't the same as some freak flu, man" Daryl said and stared at Connor. "You should watch yah ass just like anyone else."

"Even more so. You are the only two cases of immunity that we know of. Your lives are extremely valuable. You should definitely be separated from the others" Hershel added, still looking at Connor. The older MacManus continued to give everyone an angry glare because he didn't like that they just kept destroying all his efforts to make his brother feel safe. The younger MacManus just rubbed his mouth, silently watching both parties.

Connor was just about to say something when Wendy interrupted their talk.

"Wait, so are you actually saying that we got immune people in here but you didn't tell anyone? Are you crazy? We could've found a cure ages ago! People oughta know about this!"

"There's no fuckin cure, lady" Connor snapped and glared at her.

"Why d'ye think we was gone. We went all the way down ta Augusta ta find someone who could figure it out, but this whole immunity 's worth shit cos _there's no cure_. Why break the news and upset people even more. We kept quiet fer a reason. A whole buncha people committed suicide cos of this before."

Murphy stared at Connor, wondering for a moment why his brother was lying. They had never really talked about Augusta so far, but he was pretty sure that should his sibling really have found the same people and the same hospital, people like Stevens and the soldiers, then the same things must've happened to him, too.

He was sure that they both knew that there _was_ a cure. That they could find something with the help of their blood, their cells, their brains. Only that a possible cure would mean their certain death. It was a tricky situation, really. And he agreed with Connor to some extent. Telling people about the fact that there was no cure could cause chaos. Telling people that there was a cure could also cause even more chaos.

They both had experienced the craziness of that back in Augusta. When their lives certainly didn't seem to matter anymore, when they weren't even considered people anymore. When they were just 'the possible cure', when everyone wanted to kill them and bleed them out because of the immunity. So he understood why Connor wouldn't tell her the truth, but he couldn't quite understand why his brother just wouldn't tell her nothing at all.

Wendy was momentarily too shocked and surprised to keep talking, so Connor used the opportunity to speak up.

"Whatever we're gonna do, we gotta come up with a solution fast. It's not just the infectiousness that's dangerous. We need ta make sure we can actually keep people behind locked doors fer a bit. Cos if die they become a threat. We can't have the whole scenario repeat itself inside another apartment block. Strict curfew. Strict quarantine. At least fer a day or whatever Dr Stevens and Milty say."

Hershel nodded.

"We need a place for them to go. They can't stay in their building. And we can't risk going in there to clean it up. We need to rearrange room occupancy. Regroup, put more healthy people in rooms together so we can clear out another building for the sick."

"Or we could move them outside. Inside the abandoned buildings down Sunnydale road. By the parking lot" Carol suggested.

"Without walls and with walkers passing through? Not sure this would make them feel any better. Their coughing could attract biters. We can't risk that" Glenn muttered and Wendy looked at him and then Connor and the others.

"Didn't we want to work on an expansion anyway?"

"With less people? 's a pretty shitty idea. Glenn's right" Connor muttered and stared at the surface of the table again.

Daryl looked at his friend for a bit and then finally decided to speak up as well.

"No, Hershel's right. We should regroup. We got enough space in here, keep everyone safe til they feel better. 'm gonna take the two leprechauns in. If everyone of my block takes two or three people in we should be doing fine. Relocate everyone inside our corner building, leave the other smaller block to the sick. Also closer t'Dr Stevens quarters. Think that'll work for her?" he said and then looked at Hershel because he had aimed the question at him. The old man rubbed his beard a bit and then nodded.

"This could work. I'll help Donna and Milton get it set up."

There was silence for a while as everyone considered this and thought about how they were going to do that.  
Murphy had a curious look around the group and chewed on his lips, only to decide that maybe this was his chance to voice his concerns.

"That still doesn't solve it, though. We still don' know what caused this."

Daryl looked at him.

"We do. 't was Patrick. He didn' feel too good yesterday, got sick. Whatever it was, flu or allergies, killed him dead in less than 24 hours, turned him into a geek. Happened while everyone was asleep, he managed t'kill and infect others. Thing went awry."

"Aye, but what about te other fella we found upstairs? Charlie? He got te same thing and he was locked up. So how'd he get infected?"

"Coulda been the water, Murph" Connor said and looked at his brother.

"Or the food…" Murphy mumbled and fell quiet because he was slightly worried. Worried, and he felt guilty. He couldn't stop thinking about it. _Maybe it had been his fault? The pigs? Or the tomatoes? What if he had transmitted something from the pigs as soon as he had touched the rest of their food? When he'd helped Terry cut up the meat or when he had picked the tomatoes for the salad Patrick had been eating on his own?_  
  
"Whatever it was, we gon' get rid of it, emo kid" Daryl said and looked at the younger MacManus as well. The others were just about to say something, too, when they suddenly heard someone cough outside. Everybody stilled, some eyes widened a bit and then everyone looked at each other. They all got up at the same time to exit this part of their town hall to go outside and enter the hallway.

"You okay?" Tyreese asked his girlfriend Karen, rubbing her shoulder as they entered the town hall and walked down the hallway.

The black-haired woman nodded but kept coughing.

" Mm-hmm."

Carol was the last to exit their council meeting room and looked at Karen with a worried look on her face.

" You sure? You don't sound so good."

Tyreese looked up to face the rest of the council with a smile, still rubbing Karen's shoulder.

"We're just going to get her some clean bed sheets. I'm going to take her back to my apartment, so she can rest."

Everyone looked at them for a moment, and Connor almost wanted to curse.

Fuck. He knew Karen.

She'd been living inside their apartment block as well. The one that was now quarantined, where countless people had been exposed. And now she was coughing, too. How fucking great. It just made him feel even worse. _What if more people were going to show symptoms? What if they all had been infected? What if he was getting sick, too? Even worse, what if Murphy was going to get sick? He'd been inside the building a whole lot longer than him last night after all._  
  
He looked at his sibling, trying to calm himself down, trying to remind himself that Murphy was right here with him, safe and sound, not coughing, not doing anything unusual. Connor instinctively placed himself in front of his sibling, although he was doing it rather inconspicuously. But he still wanted to shield him from Karen's coughing.

"Tyreese, I don't think that's a good idea" Hershel said to Karen, who immediately looked scared.

"Why? What's going on now?"

Glenn let out a gentle sigh and looked at her, getting a bit closer.

"We think it's a flu or something. That's how Patrick died."

Karen kept looking at them in shock and Connor spoke up after having pressed his lips together so hard that they almost felt numb.

"I met 'im last night. Down with te water barrels. He was coughing just like ye."

" Judith is in your apartment block, Tyreese. She's vulnerable. Anyone that might have been exposed or may be sick should stay away from that building. We're going to split everyone up. People who've been exposed and show symptoms will be moved to the north section of town."

Karen let out a terrified gasp and rubbed her throat nervously.

" It…it killed Patrick?"

Tyreese rubbed her back to calm her down.

"She's gonna be okay. Now that we know what Patrick died from we can treat it, right?"

Nobody said anything. Wendy stared at Connor and Murphy at the mention of treatment and another cure, eyeing them, unreadable expression on her face. Murphy was too caught up listening to everyone to notice, but Connor looked right back at the woman. He still didn't like too many people from Woodbury.

"Don't panic. We're going to figure this out. But we should keep you separated in the meantime. We'll have Donna take a look at you. I'll see what we have in the way of medications" Hershel said and already wanted to start walking when Karen spoke yet again.

"David from the Decatur group, he's been coughing, too."

David. Another one from their apartment block. Connor swallowed hard. That shit really freaked him out now. _Had his throat just felt scratchy? And what was up with the headache? He always felt like coughing because of all his chain smoking, but what if there was more to it?_ He took a deep breath and then fixed his eyes on the wooden floor below, breathing in and out. No. He was fine. It was all just psychosomatic. His scared mind was playing tricks on him. Like when someone else started yawning opposite you or someone just needed to mention the word 'yawn' and you suddenly felt the urge to yawn. Or when your hands were all tied up and you suddenly felt all itchy and really needed to scratch your arm.

He scratched his arm and shook his head. It confused the hell out of him. He was usually pretty calm about everything. It took much to freak him out, so why was he so on edge today? Glenn's gentle sigh snapped him out of it and for a moment Connor caught glimpse of Daryl and how he was watching him with a slightly worried look on his face. The Irishman immediately cracked a tiny half smirk and Daryl returned it, but then just looked worried again.

"I'll get him" Glenn said about David then looked at Sasha "There's some old camp beds in the shed behind your building, right?"

Sasha nodded

"Yeah, we'll meet you there" she said and then walked over to Karen to get her. "Come on. Let's get you settled."

Tyreese, Sasha, Karen, Wendy, Carol and Glenn left after that, each on their way to get things done, new tasks set up and waiting to be completed.  
Now there were only Daryl, Connor, Murphy and Hershel left.

"We'll have to call another meeting later" the old man said to Connor and Daryl, who nodded.

"All right. I'll get to burying the dead ones" the hunter said.

"You wear gloves and a mask" Hershel said with a worried look on his face and placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder.

"Te fuck yer gonna do" Connor spoke up before Hershel could say anything else. The Irishman gave his friend an angry glare. Daryl stared back at him with a frown.

"Someone's gotta do it. And it ain't the first time I barbecued a bunch 'a dead walkers. Just did it two days ago."

"But they weren't infected with shit tha makes people choke on their own fuckin blood."

"No, they're just infected with a buncha other disgustin shit. Same difference" Daryl growled and then wanted to follow Hershel who was on his way outside, but Connor shoved his friend back.

"I said yer ain't gonna do that shit!"

"Fuck off!" Daryl snapped, angered by the sudden shove.

Murphy had been watching their little fight up until now, feeling angrier by the second as well because he didn't like the way Daryl treated his brother and also because their whole fighting just killed his mood even more.

"Oh Jesus fockin Christ, just let te dumb hick do it then if he thinks he's gotta get his fuckin ass killed!" he shouted, trying to shut them up but being terribly bad at settling the dispute. Both Daryl and Connor, who had been caught up arguing and fighting with each other, looked at the younger MacManus, because they had already forgotten he was there with them.

"Ain't no one asked yah for your opinion. Go pick flowers or something."

"Murph, just…" Connor tried to make himself known, but his friend and brother ignored him.

"How 'bout I pick yer teeth outta yer fuckin mouth?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes and immediately tried to walk up to the younger Irishman to intimidate him a bit and put him in his place, but just like before Connor pressed his hand to his chest to keep him back.

"Alright now fuckin stop it, te both of ye!" the Irishman yelled angrily, his throat burning from his shouting. He looked at both Murphy and Daryl only to fix his eyes on the latter's face, glaring at him, forcing him to look him in the eye and make him understand that he better not fuck this up. Once he had made sure that Daryl got what he was aiming at Connor finally let go of him, turned around and then rubbed the bridge of his nose with an exhausted sigh.

"Murph…would ye go outside and…help the others fer a moment?"

Murphy raised an eyebrow and looked at Connor in disbelief, only to let out an angry snort. He shook his head, eyes looking back and forth between his sibling and Daryl. He didn't want to be excluded, didn't want to leave his brother especially when something as fucked up as this was going on, but the truth was that he also didn't want to see _them_ together. Whether they were fighting or not.

He just didn't like seeing Connor and Daryl together, and his still very present dislike for that was making itself know whenever it got to that. When he was just around Daryl, like when he'd followed the guy outside or when they'd been talking by his motor bike, he actually liked the guy more and could actually talk and work with him, but as soon as Connor was in the picture it always and almost immediately turned into a competition, and it immediately made him like the guy less again. He just let out an angry huff and started walking.

"Fine, I ain't got time fer this fuckin kindergarten shit anyway" he grumbled and headed for the door, shrugging Connor off when he tried to place a hand on his back to pat it and kind of apologize with it.

"Murph….."

"See ye outside" Murphy just said and then closed the door shut behind himself, leaving only Connor and Daryl left inside the town hall.

"Fuck" Connor muttered and rubbed the bridge of his nose once more, walking around a bit and staring at the ground. He was pissed, he was tired, he was hung over, freaked out and stressed and didn't like this whole thing at all. Yesterday had been a –much- better day.

"You alright?" Daryl asked after a moment, now no longer sounding so angry but almost concerned.

Connor chewed on his lower lip with an angry frustrated frown and nodded.

"Aye. I'm gonna get te bodies, load them on a truck 'n bury them."

Daryl frowned yet again.

"No yah ain't. Yah heard Hershel. You 'n emo kid ain't gonna risk yah lives cos yah…"

"Well it doesn' fuckin matter cos I already drank te fuckin water, alright?" Connor suddenly snapped and gave Daryl an angry glare. He then shook his head with a frustrated huff and turned around, hands on his hips, staring at the door with a gentle "Fuck". Daryl looked at his back in surprise.

"What?"

Connor nodded and gently kicked at thin air a couple of times, watching his foot move forwards and backwards. He rubbed the back of his neck, moving his hand up and down, fingers moving through his blonde hair. "Aye. When I got home after te bar I met Patrick by the water barrels. Just like I said" he explained and then turned around to look at Daryl, still chewing on his lips, now openly showing that he was worried.

"We talked 'n I patted his back when he swallowed te wrong way. Didn't think too much of it. He told me there was no more running water, so I took a bucket upstairs ta get washed up, did the whole thing, brushed my teeth, washed my face with it, te same water he probably coughed right fuckin into."

For just a moment Daryl looked at his friend, paling a bit but not showing any other real reaction. The truth was that he was petrified with fear, because it reminded him way too much of an other scenario. When it had been dark, when they had been alone as well, the forest at night, when Connor had also confessed some terrible truth.

_I got bit._   
_I drank the water._

And just like back then he immediately wanted to punch the Irishman in his face for being so stupid, he wanted to yell at him and ask him why the fuck he would get near this coughing bastard, why he would take the water with him after Patrick had been so close to it but of course. How on earth should Connor have known that this whole thing would turn into this? It freaked him out, it scared the shit out of him, knowing that his best friend might be in trouble yet again, probably infected with yet another disease that was supposed to be lethal. He didn't want any of this, not when so much had changed, not when they were finally doing so good.

Although he clenched his fists a bit he wouldn't start yelling and he wouldn't start shoving Connor like he had done last time, he was actually still calm and tried to stay all collected and positive about it. But he still needed to know. "Yah feel anything? Sore throat, shit like that?" he muttered, starting to shift and walk on the spot a bit, voice low, avoiding eye contact because he didn't even want to see a reaction, didn't even want to hear an answer.

Connor laughed nervously.

"Well I certainly am fuckin sore, but not me throat. Didn't have a great start this morning and I got a fuckin headache and I just need ta think about food and I feel like puking but hey, we had a bit too much last night, right? So there's that. 'm probably just fuckin hung over."

Daryl examined his friend a little while longer, thinking about the way Connor had acted earlier, whenever he had looked at him and watched him. How quiet and lost in thoughts he had been. The truth was that all the things Connor had just told him about didn't exactly calm him down. He was still pretty much worried and freaked out although it did just sound like a hangover. But he tried not to let Connor see.

"Yeah. Yah doin fine. Just hung over cos yah been so stupid last night."

He even forced himself to smile a bit and then started walking to get closer to his friend before walking outside, so he could nudge his chest and maybe quickly let his hand travel down his chest in a gentle affectionate stroking motion.

"Come on, let's get to it."

Connor placed a hand on his friend's arm on his chest and squeezed a bit but then Daryl already let go, still pretty eager to not let anyone see or know that he wanted to be like that with the guy, and that not letting know _included_ Connor.

"What about ye? _You_ okay?" the Irishman still asked, looking at his friend which made Daryl stop walking once more.

The hunter turned around, chewing on his lips, obviously trying to hide that he was not okay. Of course he wasn't. Not after hearing that his friend had consumed something that had been infected with a disease that had killed two people in less than 24 hours, making their eyes, nose, mouth and ears bleed.  
 _Like if you shake a soda can and pop the top._

"Hmhm. Gotta be."

Connor smirked a little because this statement applied to him as well. He had to be alright, too. For Murphy, because he was his protector. For Daryl, because he knew that his friend didn't take this whole thing too good. He didn't even want to put him through shit like that again. Like last year when Daryl had left their group for him, to take care of him all on his own, to get him through the after effects of his first bite. He didn't ever want to be sick like that again, didn't want to make Daryl worry and take care of him like that ever again. Because he knew his friend would.

"Aye. Gotta be."

 

* * *

He found Murphy with Maggie and the others. The entire town was more than busy moving things around, eager to get the other apartment building all set up as soon as possible, so they could take care of possible infected, so they could get them away from the healthy ones, so they could keep the unknown disease from spreading all over town.

The entire climate had changed, from one day to the next. It felt like they could almost feel the nervousness, the fear, the terror. They'd never had to deal with anything like this before, but most of them had heard about the consequences of such aggressive flu strings. Spanish influenza, swine flu, avian flu, those diseases had made their papers before the outbreak, they had seen the terrifying pictures of what diseases could do all over the globe, and that had been when there had still been hospitals, the CDC and other scientists. And now here they were, with a simple vet, GP and wannabe scientist. Things could turn out really bad. And they all knew it.

Connor was actually happy to see that Murphy didn't have any troubles fitting right in and keeping himself busy. He liked to move so the job did him good, it kept his mind off things and it was also a good, honest thing, something god sure would be proud of.

Connor was also glad that it didn't involve any contact with possible infected. Quiet the opposite. It meant getting in contact with clean sheets, clean clothes, medicine and sterilizers. He was helping Beth, Maggie and the others set up beds for the sick and possible infected so they had a nice place to stay, and for a moment Connor actually just stopped, leaned against the door frame and watched his sibling move about.

He loved how truly good Murphy was, how although he might have forgotten parts of his past he was still his old self through and through, for the most part, helping others, being compassionate and sociable, a whole lot more than he could ever be. His better half, his missing parts.

"Murphy?"

The younger MacManus looked up in surprise and stopped working for a moment to face Connor. He nodded to let him know that he was on his way and then quickly helped Beth finish one of the beds until he made his way through these tight quarters to get to the door, where his brother was.

"Dr Stevens'n Hershel said that this would be a good place fer the rest'a our block ta stay in" he informed Connor and then looked back at the beds, still pretty much worried and the worry now more than obvious because of the look on his face. "They said we shouldn't stay in here though. Shouldn' risk getting even more exposed" he let out a gentle sigh and rubbed his nose. "'m pretty glad we don' have ta stay here, though."

Connor nodded.

"Aye. 's gonna be pretty shitty getting people in here. We don' know who's infected and who's not. We're certainly gonna end up mixing healthy ones with infected, but what else're we gonna do, aye?"

Murphy nodded.

"Aye."

They both watched the others work for a moment until Murphy let out a gentle sigh.

"Fuckin sucks, man. I don' understand how anyone can catch a fuckin killer cold when it's 300 fuckin degrees down here."

Connor chuckled gently.

"Yer right. Coulda been understandable back in Boston, but here?"

Murphy looked around and nodded with an approving "Aye", remembering their former native city.

He chewed on his lips some more, contemplating if he should tell his sibling about the possibility that he might be infected as well.  
In the end he decided not to, though. He just needed to ask.

"What about ye, Murph. Are ye alright? D'ye feel sick?"

Murphy turned around and rolled his eyes a bit because there it was again, motherhen Connor.

"Nope." He then looked up a bit, as if trying to look at god. "Reckon the two'f us been through enough shit fer now, don't ye think?"

Connor nodded and looked up as well.

"Aye. Aye."

 _You better not fuckin disappoint me again_ , he thought, warning and judging god a bit.

"Rick killed te pigs. They were pretty much dead anyway. Milton's looking at their blood right now. See if it's their fault."

Connor nodded.

"Alright."

Murphy then looked at him with a questioning look on his face.

"I thought that maybe we should go back outside look fer the old farmer. Should the tests be positive. Ask him what te fuck's up with givin us sick animals after we saved his arse. What'd ye think?"

Connor looked at Murphy, once again a bit surprised and also happy to see his sibling act like this, that he was really still doing this. Asking for his opinion, suggesting to do something together, to be a team again. He then nodded and shifted so he could stop leaning against the door frame.

"Yeah. We should do that. Fucker better have a decent explanation fer this fuck up then."

"Hm-hm."

The older MacManus then let out a gentle sigh and shifted to get moving.

"Alright. Ye help the lads and lasses with the beds. Me 'n Daryl were gonna dispose of te bodies and give them a proper burial outside. "

Murphy looked at his brother for a moment, contemplating if he should say something. But just like the many times before he didn't quite want to speak it out because he didn't know how to put it, because he didn't want to make Connor angry or upset him or whatever. But his silence was useless anyway, because his twin noticed his behavior right away.

"What?"

Murphy rubbed his mouth and shrugged, thinking about how he should put it.

"Well it's just…are ye sure ye should be doing that? Can't ye just ask someone else ta do it?"

Connor smiled a little, happy to hear that his sibling was obviously worried about his wellbeing.

"It's alright, Murph. We're gonna wear masks and gloves 'n shit. Don' wanna let him do this on his own, I need ta watch his ass in case the schtupid redneck fucks this up again."

Murphy snorted but still didn't like the whole thing, that Connor was willing to risk getting infected just so he could go out there with his stupid girlfriend.

"So what, yer not gonna watch _my_ ass in case I hang out with te wrong people or look at te wrong people?"

Connor chuckled a bit and reached out to squeeze his sibling's upper arm and brush his thumb across the muscle there.

"I thought we made it pretty clear that ye don't need anyone ta watch yer ass, _little_ brother."

Murphy immediately tried to shake Connor off with an angry growl.

"Fuck yerself, I ain't little, yer te fuckin little one, asshat."

Connor kept chuckling and turned around to leave when Murphy called out again.

"Connor?"

The blonde turned around to look at his brother again.

"Wear te fuckin mask."

Connor smiled once more.

"Aye."

* * *

Murphy was on his way across main street to help the others carry some more stuff when he noticed Daryl by the truck. The hunter was already busy loading bodies on the loading area with the help of two men Murphy didn't really know yet. Connor had gone to talk to a few people before leaving town to get rid of the bodies, so he was still nowhere in sight.

Murphy slowed down and just watched the hunter for a moment, how he was moving one body after another. It really just hit the Irishman how many people they had lost today, and all the 'masks' and gloves made it even more obvious how serious this really was. So Murphy just stood there and stared, thinking about it, letting the images of the chaos earlier today pass by.

It was seriously fucked up.

Just yesterday he'd thought that this was going to be his new home, that they were safe here, that they could build a life, that this was the place where he and Connor could get used to each other again, in peace, but of course. This was the end of the world. Things were never going to be easy again. Anyone could die from one second to the next, they had just seen it today, he could see it, reflected in the body count.

The younger MacManus chewed on his lips and then finally decided to just do it. He walked across the street and approached Daryl, hands shoved into his pockets, gently rotating his right shoulder, the one with the scar, that was too tight and tense once again. It took a moment but then Daryl raised his head and looked at him, mouth covered with a bandana, eyes widening the moment he saw Murphy.

The hunter let go of the body he and the other guy had just been throwing on top of the truck and immediately raised his gloved hand to make Murphy stop walking.

"Yah better stop. Ain't no one getting close t'the bodies without some sorta protection. Besides, yah bro's gonna kick my ass as soon as he sees you here so yah better fuck off."

Murphy stilled and looked at the bodies, once again chewing on his lips with a slight frown. He nodded, understanding and agreeing with Daryl because he was right, but he wouldn't leave, he just stopped and watched, thinking about it for a moment, watching how the hunter and the other two men walked over to the entrance of the building to get the next body.

"Can I talk ta ye fer a second?" the younger MacManus asked then and Daryl slowed down with a sniff, using his lower arm to wipe his nose and then look at Murphy. His hair was stringy because he was sweating so much, and the hunter actually looked like he could use a break anyway. But just for a moment he stared back at Connor's brother, once again rather surprised by the fact that although they seemed to hate each other, Murphy kept seeking his company for some weird reason.

The hunter let go of everything and then wiped the sweat of his forehead only to start walking, around the truck, approaching Murphy and then walking even further so they could put some distance between them and the other two guys. Murphy nodded the moment Daryl passed him and then turned around to silently follow the hunter, who pulled his bandana down after a while and turned around when they were a bit further away from the whole hustle and bustle.

"What is it, ain't got all day" the hunter growled and adjusted his bandana to get it out of his mouth, only to put both his hands on his hips with an exhausted sigh. He just looked at Murphy, slightly angry, slightly amused, and a whole lot confused. Murphy looked the man right in the eye, not shy or anything, making it obvious that this was serious, that he meant what he was about to say. He still didn't like talking to Daryl too much either, but this was important to him, so he went ahead.

"Con told me that yer gonna bury the bodies out there."

Daryl just looked at the Irishman for a moment and then snorted.

"If this is another one of yah trying t'make deals with me just so yah can do stuff your stupid bro don't want yah t'do then…."

"No. I just wanted ta tell ye that ye better fuckin watch his ass out there. And don' let 'im get sick."

Daryl raised an eyebrow at that, just a bit, actually surprised to hear that because he'd been expecting something else entirely. Murphy kept looking at him, in a way that made it look like he wasn't just thinking about the bodies anymore, that this was about more. The hunter didn't need to ask what this was about, because Murphy kept talking, at least after having made sure that no one was around them.

"He told me, alright. About ye."

Daryl just stared at the Irishman, already getting what he was aiming at but trying really hard not to take it that way. Because this wasn't good. Not _at all_. It didn't fucking matter that Murphy was Connor's twin brother. It didn't fucking matter that he'd already known that his friend shared _everything_ with his sibling. Nobody was supposed to know, nobody was supposed to see him that way.

He didn't want anyone to know that he was screwing around with a guy. He just knew that people wouldn't understand, that guys like Murphy were going to view him as some redneck hillbilly fag, the exact reason _why nobody was supposed to know_. But Murphy _did_. He swallowed hard and tried to move although he felt like he was petrified.

"Told yah what 'bout me" he snarled, trying to play it like he didn't know what he was talking about. But of course. Murphy was smarter than that. The younger MacManus looked around once more, making it obvious that this really was about the him and Connor thing, that he obviously didn't want anyone else to know either.

"'bout te fuckin thing ye got going with Con."

They both had to snort because of the way Murphy had put it without realizing.

"Ain't got no idea what yah talkin bout. I gotta help Ed and the others move the bodies" Daryl muttered and tried to walk away, but Murphy wouldn't let him, he just kept talking, reminding the hunter once more that he was Connor's twin brother, that he was just as relentless and annoying as his sibling.

"I don' think it's right, nor does god" Murphy said and Daryl rolled his eyes. He turned around again to glare at the younger MacManus. Murphy looked back at him and shrugged a bit after a moment. "But I can see that he likes ye a lot and that I ain't gonna change shit cos a lotta stuff went on while I was gone. And I can' get that back and I don' know and can't remember what happened."

Daryl continued to just stare.

"But he trusts ye so I just gotta do the same. All 'm asking ye: ye better not fuck this up, ye better not mess with 'im an ye better not take 'im fer fuckin granted. So look after 'im out there, and he better mean the same ta you. Else ye have ta face me."

The hunter just kept getting surprised by his lookalike today. He already knew Murphy well enough (he hated that they were actually kind of alike not just looks wise but also mentality wise) to understand that this was the closest they were going to get to actually hearing Murphy utter words of 'approval'. He knew that he had the guy's 'blessing'. Whether they both liked the whole thing and how it had turned out or not.

He still didn't like the fact that Connor had really told Murphy about the whole thing, and he certainly was going to beat his ass into the ground for that later, but a tiny part of him actually appreciated the whole thing, that Murphy had actually addressed it on his own without flipping his shit because of the religious issue. It actually really surprised him to hear and see how quickly Murphy had started to trust his brother again, how their strange and tight bond that Connor had kept talking about was still there for the most part. It made him happy for his friend, but it also made him feel uncomfortable and crept him out a bit.

"Hm-hm" was all he managed to say. He had a lot more to say actually, that the fucker didn't even know how much his brother mattered to him, that he would die for him and that he would do anything to keep Connor safe, but he wasn't a man of words and although his friend had changed him some, he still wasn't willing to admit to anything emotional around people. Other than the stupid leprechaun, because damn, he had already opened himself up to him way too much after telling him about his past and everything. He certainly needed to cut it short. So all he gave Murphy was the 'hm-hm' with a nod and tried to leave once more, eager to leave the whole topic behind, but the younger MacManus still didn't make it easy for him.

"'n Daryl?"

"Good lord, what is it now, yah annoying wacko" he growled with a dramatic eyeroll and looked at Murphy for a final time, making it clear that he was going to leave after this no matter what.

"Should this disease really get me this time… Keep lookin after Connor fer me. Don' leave him alone."

There was a small pause and then the younger MacManus added a determined "Promise."

Daryl wanted to snort, he wanted to make fun of the Irishman and tell him exactly that this was what he'd been doing all year anyway after his huge fuck up with the walker bite in Boston, he wanted to tell Murphy that he better watch his ass this time then and that he was nobody's babysitter and that he didn't owe him shit because he didn't even like Murphy, but he wouldn't say anything like that at all. He chewed on his lower lip instead, keeping it in, studying his lookalike's face (and fuck did that still creep him out, it was like he was looking in a freaking mirror).

He wouldn't say anything mean or shrug it off because he knew that Murphy was right. Connor needed them. Or needed one of them, should the other be gone. The guy wasn't going to make it on his own. Not because he wasn't strong enough, not because he wasn't smart enough, not because he wasn't a survivor. Connor could be perfect for this world with his abilities and his character traits. But he had already seen the truth. No matter how smart and talented and capable the guy really was, he was too dependent on Murphy. He just couldn't be a person of his own because of their freaky twin status.

So the hunter eventually nodded and gave Murphy an honest answer.  
It wasn't a good one and it certainly wasn't strongly worded, but he was being sincere about it and he wanted the other to know that he meant it.

"I got it, emo kid" he said with that gentle nod, making it final. A promise, that went without saying anyway.

Murphy nodded back and seemed to appreciate the gesture, also knowing that Daryl would never really form the exact words to show real approval and really tell what he thought about the whole thing, just like he had refused to give Daryl his real blessing.

Daryl shifted a bit and even took it a bit further.

"We're family 'round here. Ain't gonna let _no one_ get hurt."

 _You're Connor's brother. You're family, too. I'm gonna protect your stupid annoying ass just as much cos you matter to Connor and matter to me this way, too,_ it said, but he wouldn't speak that out either. He then just walked past Murphy to get back to moving the bodies, and this time he even refrained from a final snarky and dismissive remark, to let the other know that he really meant everything he'd just said, that he actually kind of liked the guy.

 

* * *

"Jesus fuckin Christ, why did ye let me drink that fuckin much last night, I think 'm gonna die" Connor grunted and stabbed the ground with his shovel only to keep it there and use it to lean against it and rest for a bit. He was digging his third grave now, with the hot Georgian sun shining down on them like they were surrounded by radiant heaters, merciless, unforgiving.

His black shirt was soaking wet, and no matter how many times he wiped the sweat off his forehead, it just kept coming right back. Daryl looked just as exhausted, his hair wet from all the sweat, his sleeveless shirt sticking to his chest, also drenched. "Fuck those fuckin gloves" Connor kept complaining and suddenly got rid of them, tossing them as far away as he could and then pulling down the bandana that had been covering his nose and mouth.

Daryl stopped shoveling with a gentle smirk and then looked at his friend, just smiling even more, mischievous and gleeful.  
He also pulled his bandana down for a moment and gave his friend that honest smirk, squeezing one eye shut because the sun was blinding him.

"Well, made yah less annoying so ain't been no reason t'stop yah."

"Fuck you _, yer_ fuckin annoyin, fuck's sakes" Connor kept grumbling and leaned against the dirt for a moment, rubbing his forehead because the headache was getting worse from the heat. "There better be no more fuckin dead people, or I swear ta fuckin god they can dig their graves in advance."

Daryl lazily poked the dirt with his shovel, staring at the ground, thinking about everything that had happened earlier today.  
All the death, the disease, the worry, the possible consequences.

"Your lil bro asked me t'look after you. 'n case that thing gets him and he bites the dust again" he said and then looked at Connor, once again squeezing an eye shut because it was so bright. He had added the last bit to make it a little less serious, and he did get what he'd aimed for. A little snort from Connor, who looked away for a moment and then thought about it for a bit.

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen" he answered, trying to sound all determined and tough although Daryl knew that Connor really feared that.  
He could see it in his eyes. The hunter poked at the dirt some more, avoiding eye contact and nodding.

"That's what I told 'im."

There was silence for a while as they both got lost in thoughts again, Daryl still digging a bit, and Connor massaging his temples and spitting on the ground once because of the bitter taste in his mouth.

"Yah told 'im?" Daryl asked after a while, all casual and quiet because he still didn't like talking about the whole thing. But it had reminded him of the first part of his conversation with Murphy, where he'd told him that he had found out about them. Daryl was comfortable enough with the thing he had with Connor now, comfortable enough that he wanted to keep doing it for a while, in the near future, he was comfortable enough that he could even admit that he liked it, liked Connor, didn't want to fight the whole thing anymore just because of his stupid past, but if there was one thing that was still bugging him then it was the whole 'label' thing and other people finding out. He didn't want it to be anyone's business.

"Told who what?" Connor asked and grabbed his shovel again to get back to digging as well, right beside Daryl, his rosary dangling left to right, freely in the air, with each movement.

"Your bro. 'bout… y'know."

Connor frowned and looked at Daryl, because he honestly didn't know what the fuck his friend was talking about.

The hunter noticed the confused look on his friend's face and growled.

"'bout us, dumbass."

He didn't like the word 'us'. It sounded cheesy and stupid, like they were a couple or something. Fuck no. That was wrong.  
But he also didn't want to say 'about the fact that we're fucking each other now' because that was even worse.

Connor pressed his lips together and looked away.

"Didn' give me a fuckin choice. Little shit's smart" Connor answered, digging harder. "See, this is the downside 'f bein twins. Comes with biologically implanted lie detectors. We like, literally _can't_ lie ta each other. 's a fuckin curse sometimes."

Daryl snorted.

"Yeah, no shit."

"What'd he say?"

Daryl let out a gentle, frustrated sigh.

"Yah usual bible-banging psycho crap. 'God ain't seein it as something right and yada yada yada.' But he ain't against it cos yah like me 'n shit."

Connor started laughing and turned his head to look at Daryl, even waggling with his eyebrows.

"Well, I certainly do, sweet Darylena" he teased him and Daryl let out another angry snort, but he still couldn't stop himself from smirking.

"Jackass" he growled and threw the dirt from his shovel right at Connor, who dodged the attack, chuckling even more.

"Well, as long as he ain't seein it as right and as long as he's bein a good boy about it he can certainly make it ta heaven" the Irishman then said, going back to digging the hole.

"Yeah whatever" Daryl grunted, pretty eager to try to stop them from actually evaluating this whole thing and its consequences. He didn't want to keep getting reminded that what they had started doing was against every single one of his beliefs, how it was insulting his family and practically felt like he was spitting on Merle's grave, he didn't want to think about it at all, didn't want Connor to get started on evaluating what was more important to him – physicalness or religion. He didn't want to let Connor go down that way of thinking, because he didn't want it to stop.

"How'd he find out anyway? Creeper been sniffin yah panties or something, fucked up the two of you are?"

Connor snorted.

"F'ck you."

They both dug some more until Connor wiped the sweat off his forehead once more.

"No, wasn' hard ta figure out after ye fuckin _bit_ me. So many thanks ta you, asswipe."

Daryl tried hard not to grin, because although Connor was right about the bite and how visible and stupid it had been – it still made him feel pleased with himself because he had marked his friend as his property, because he now had a constant reminder of that, a secret only he and Connor (and now Murphy) knew about, that was clearly visible without actually giving away too much.

"Ye better not fuckin do that shit again, else the whole town's gonna know within a month. Unless we come up with a decent fuckin cover-up."

"I ain't the one who told someone shit 'bout it. If McFryBrain talks, shit's on you, not me."

"He ain't gonna fuckin talk. Stop talkin shit 'bout Murph all te time, alright. Tha's me brother yer talkin 'bout."

"Just makes 'im even more annoyin and stupid."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck _you_."

They both smirked yet again, at the same time, amused by how this constant calling each other names and bantering was still going on, even after that many months of being friends.

 

* * *

 

 

"It's a stupid idea. Shoulda gone right back t'town" Daryl growled, eyes fixed on the dusty gravel path in front of them. They were driving towards the little farm that looked a bit like Hershel's farm, although it was a different one. The hunter had never been here before, but Connor had.

The Irishman was looking around, eyes fixed on the house from time to time, frowning.

"Shut it, we was gonna go back here sooner or later anyway, so why not stop by since we're already on te move anyway? There's a possibility that the pigs were te carriers, so we gotta make sure the old man didn'... Shit, slow down" Connor answered, grabbing Daryl's arm to make him stop the car.

There was still some distance between their car and the farm, but they were close enough to see that something wasn't quite right. They were looking at the farm of the old man who had given the MacManus twins the horse and two pigs yesterday. They could also see the old guy now, with his two kids, but the whole scenario was off.

Because much in contrast to yesterday there wasn't just the three of them, there were four military trucks parked around the property, trucks that had brought a group of heavily armed people with them. They didn't exactly look like military. The way they were holding their guns, the way they were grinning and moving about, or how that one guy and woman kept practically eating each other because they were kissing so hard, almost making out right there on the spot, by the truck.

The old man and his children had been forced to kneel on the ground, hands behind their heads, guns pressed to the back of their heads. One guy was hovering above the old man and obviously talking to him, asking him something, but neither Connor nor Daryl could make out what he was saying.

"Shit" the Irishman managed to say after a moment, horrified by what they were seeing.

"Those guys ain't military" Daryl noticed and Connor nodded.

"Aye, we should do…."

Three loud gunshots rang through the valley right then and there, startling the two friends and making them look back at the farm in shock. The old farmer and his two children had dropped to the ground, the three guys who were standing behind their shot bodies were lowering their weapons, grinning, laughing.

The woman that had been busy kissing that one other man suddenly broke the kiss and started cheering, flipping out and jumping up and down like she was enjoying the whole scenario, like it was some sort of rock concert.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, we gotta do something" Connor gasped and tried to move, but Daryl pressed his hand to his friend's chest to stop him.

"Ain't nothing we can do 'bout it. Guy's dead. We should get the hell away from here and head back t'town, just like I said."

"Are ye shittin me? We can't just leave those scumbags out here, they just straight out murdered te fella and a buncha teenagers! We gotta drop 'em right te…" Connor didn't get to finish the sentence, because then he suddenly felt the cold blade of a knife against his throat.

"Now now now…who do we have here?"

The Irishman swallowed hard, his Adam's apple booping up and back down just above the blade, and then turned his head to look at the man who was pressing the weapon to his throat. The guy looked kind of normal, actually. He'd seen a couple of twisted figures in his life with ugly teeth and 'evil' practically written all over their filthy, slimy faces, but this guy actually didn't look like it at first. But his grin gave it away, made it obvious that he was enjoying the fact that his group had just shot an innocent farmer, liking it just as much as the cheering woman in the distance.

"Look, fella. We was just passin through" Connor immediately tried to defuse the situation because he knew how dangerous it really was.

Another man to their left, by the driver's door, was chuckling. He had pressed a gun to Daryl's temple to keep him in place as well, which the hunter didn't seem to like at all. For a moment both friends managed to look at each other. Connor just looked worried but still collected. Daryl tried to stay calm as well, but when he let his eyes travel down his friend's face and saw the knife pressed to his throat he nearly lost it. _No one threatened Connor's life when he was around._ He immediately wanted to kill these bastards. Not just because of the knife thing, but also because their group had just murdered an old man like that.

"You with old McDonald there?" the man with the knife asked and pointed at the farm, suggesting that he meant the people they had just killed.

"Said we were just passin through, yah deaf or what, scumbag?" Daryl snarled at the man, threatening him with just his glare.

The man to Connor's right looked at him for a moment and then fixed his eyes on Connor again, grinning.

"What town you been talkin 'bout?"

"Yeah, you guys hauled up somewhere? How many of you are in this town of yours? We were gonna crash raise our camp here, but town sounds a whole lot better. How much room you got?"

"Ain't none of yah…" Daryl roared and tried to move, but the man with the gun shoved him back and the guy with the knife immediately reacted as well and pressed it even more to Connor's throat, making him lean his head back and press it against the headrest.

"You shut up, you white piece a'trash, or I drop blondie right here 'n now."

"'m gonna fuckin kill yah!" Daryl roared, doing the exact opposite of what had been requested but Connor raised his voice and even grabbed his arm.

"Fuckin shut it!" he hissed and then turned his head to look at his hostage-taker.

"Just…just relax, fellas, alright? We're nobodies, we weren't even here and we didn't see shit. You mind your business, we mind ours, let's be civilized about this."

Knife-man chuckled and relaxed the hand with the knife a tiny bit, giving Connor more space to breathe but still keeping him in place.

"I like 'im. He's smarter than redneck guy" he said and smirked at his colleague, angering Daryl even more.

But the hunter kept quiet this time because Connor squeezed his arm painfully hard, letting him know that he was going to handle it.

"I don't know, Aaron. Both of 'em look a bit shady if you ask me."

Aaron just chuckled even more. As the both of them talked to each other Connor inconspicuously squeezed Daryl's arm once more to let him know that he wanted him to look at him. The Irishman managed to make eye contact and quickly tried to guide him through his possible escape plan with gentle, almost invisible nods towards the steering wheel and doors. Even using his right hand a tiny bit to try and use hand signs.

"Jess 'n Derek certainly like shady."

"Ohhhh yeah" the other man said and then both laughed, like this was some sort of inside joke.  
Then they finally really concentrated on the two friends again, who they still held captive with their weapons.

"Come on, out with yah. Let's go get you meet the boss" gunman said and placed his hand on the door opener.

"Nice 'n slow. Hands above your heads, get lined up by the car so we can frisk the two of yah."

Gunman slowly pulling the door open was the moment Daryl had been waiting for. He had managed to move his foot away from the foot throttle and had placed it on the door, to use the heat of the moment, seconds after shooting Connor another glare that meant "Now".

The hunter kicked the door hard and made it connect with gunman's face, making his nose crack and bleed. His head was thrown back from the impact and then he fell down to the ground, momentarily knocked out cold. Connor used the opportunity to knock out Aaron in the meantime. He managed to grab the man's arm and twisted it away from himself, making the man scream and cutting his own throat a bit but only superficially. He then used his other hand to grab the man by his hair and pulled him down, smashing it against the door frame multiple times and that as hard as he could with angry grunts.

He then shoved the guy out of their car and yelled "Go! Now!", making Daryl kick the accelerator hard after having thrown their car in reverse while Connor had been busy with their remaining attacker.

They were thrown forward because of the sheer and sudden speed of the car and then Daryl spun them around, just split seconds before gunman regained consciousness and aimed his gun at them. A couple of bullets still hit their car and smashed their rearview window and then blew up one of their back tires, but they had made it, they were driving away from the farm, away from their attackers who were yelling and trying to go after them. But they were too fast, going at full speed.

Connor looked back in sheer surprise, chest heaving from the shock and suddenness of it all.

"Hooohhh, holy shit" he gasped and then let out an exhausted laugh, because he couldn't believe they had really made it.  
Daryl kept glaring in the rearview mirror, more than angry and running on adrenaline, but their attackers were nowhere in sight.

So far.


	22. Saints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're not mad at me because of this one! Loooads of things going down. And it's gonna get even crazier. Oops. You may notice that I did some time shifting in this chapter. There's some stuff from episode 12 in here already, but for a reason that's gonna play a role in later chapters, so I HAD to put it in.

It was taking them way too long. That's all Murphy could think about. He'd been very busy for a while, setting the place up for the sick, helping Doctor Stevens, Milton and Andrea with the relocation of their little hospital.

At first, he didn't even get to worry too much about Connor and Daryl. For an hour or so, he even forgot about them. There were more important things to worry about, like every moment he heard someone clear their throat and cough, or every time he crossed paths with someone who had lived inside the now quarantined apartment block with them, every time he saw them _look at him like that_. He didn't know what was up with those people. He felt like they were watching him. _Were they judging him? Did they think it was his fault because of the pigs? Did they think it was his fault because he was one of the latest additions to their population?_

 _What if it_ was _his fault?_

He replaced the sheets with fresh, clean ones and thought about this for a moment. He didn't know what'd been happening inside this town before his getting here, but it sure looked like it's something new for all of them. And he found it a bit strange, indeed. That all of this was happening right when he just got here about a week ago. He'd been in contact with a few groups. In Boston, back at Quabbin Park, Augusta, Savannah. And they'd always been okay. He'd never infected them with anything, never made them turn or feverish, despite the fact that he'd been bitten.

But now? People were getting sick. People from the apartment block he'd used to sleep in until the outbreak today. Maybe he was having…doubts.

Murphy startled a bit when someone suddenly started talking right next to him.

"Mr MacManus?"

He cleared his throat and adjusted his clothes to hide the fact that he'd gotten frighten for a second.

"Aye?"

It was Milton who was standing next to him, looking a bit disheveled. He was holding a small book and a pen in his hand, fumbling with it, nervous, clumsy.

"Excuse me it's just…I couldn't find your brother and I thought…"

Murphy didn't know what was up with the guy, why he was so nervous and looking at him like that, too. Maybe this time it was because he looked like Daryl and because he knew that the guy could be pretty intimidating. Murphy tried to look a bit friendlier and resumed his work, still curious to know what this was about, though.

"Conn, went outside ta burn the bodies. So if ye didn' see him, he's probably still out there" he muttered, looking out of the window for a moment and remembering that _yes, Connor still wasn't back home yet, what the fuck was up with that?_

"The results from the pigs' blood and stool samples aren't through yet, but I've been experimenting with something else in the meantime and…" he took a deep breath, getting himself together and then looked Murphy straight in the eye. "I need some blood samples from you, too. I was going to ask your brother because he's used to it, but we need to get this processed and maybe we can…"

"Whoa whoa whoa" Murphy said angrily, frowning and turning around to look at Milton. "Are ye implying that this is our fault? Listen, Doc, we had no…"

"No no no" Milton immediately said, raising both his hands and trying to calm Murphy down.

The younger MacManus was having quiet some trouble keeping it under control. He didn't like where this was heading, didn't like it whenever anyone mentioned his blood or how they wanted to 'take some samples'. He didn't want the whole Augusta scenario to repeat itself, he'd lost Simmons to it and it had almost gotten him killed, too.

"It's not about the Flu, well, it is indirectly. I'm still going to test you to see if you're infected, but it's primarily about your blood itself. Its make-up, your unique antibodies and changed immune system. I want to use it and see if it can help us somehow, or at least stop people from turning in case they die because of this infection. I won't take too much..with..with your permission. Of course."

Murphy pressed his lips together, grumbling, still angry because it was about this again. He looked around the room, saw the couple of people look at them already. Although there were people like Maggie and Beth, from the group, the people he could trust, there were also some other people. People he didn't know and who didn't know him, another bunch of people who had not yet known about the fact that there was something 'wrong' with his blood.

He could see it in their eyes, the curiosity, the shock and surprise.

No. He didn't like this at all. But that still didn't mean that he didn't think that Milton got a point there. Maybe he could help people this time, somehow, and he trusted this Milton guy and Doctor Stevens enough already. They were different, they weren't like the nerd squad from Augusta, and Connor had lived here for a while now, with them knowing about his immunity, Connor seemed to trust them.

Connor was the point.

He chewed on his lips some, contemplating what he should do. Part of him was still pretty stubborn and used to surviving on his own, doing shit on his own, but it was different now. He was with Connor now, his brother, they were a team. Connor had really shown that he wanted it to be that way, he had changed for the better and he had listened to him, he'd even let him join the council meeting today. So maybe it was time to stop being stubborn and anti-brotherhood as well.

He let out a gentle sigh and nodded.

"Aye. Maybe 's worth a try" he said and Milton seemed to be happy with the answer and already wanted to say something more, but Murphy interrupted him because he wasn't finished yet. "But me'n Connor we're gonna do it together. We both got bit but our blood might still be different, maybe his doesn' work but mine does or mine doesn't and his does. I'm gonna come over ta yer place and drag 'im along as soon as he gets back."

Milton adjusted his glasses and eagerly started writing in his little book.

"Excellent. I'm going to let Donna know, she's curious about this as well" he said and was already on his way out when Murphy suddenly called out with a loud "Oy!" and then pointed his tattooed finger at him. _Aequitas_ , it said, bold and clear letters, making Milton look at them.

"We're not yer fockin Guinea pigs. Blood samples. No freaky shit, got it?"

Milton nodded and was half way outside already when Murphy called out once more. He'd been watching him leave, chewing on the skin of his thumb, when he figured that he might as well ask him. He went after Milton, approaching him and having a nervous look around to check that no one was really listening to what he was about to say.

"Hey listen, Doc. 'm a bit worried, actually" he confessed, still chewing on his thumb, almost making it bleed from his constant nibbling.

"I'm not a doctor…" Milton tried to say, but Murphy just waved him off with a frown.

"Yada yada, whatever. I just need yer…honest opinion as scientist?" he mumbled, trailing off towards the end of the sentence because he was getting unsure. He didn't even know if he really wanted an honest answer. But Milton was just standing there and listening, waiting for the question with a surprised "Oh, sure?"

Murphy chewed on his lips and looked back at the others, still making sure they weren't listening. If his suspicion was true then he didn't want them to hear about it like that. He knew what people were capable of these days. What groups of people were capable of these days. Crazy shit. But he still wanted to know.

"D'ye think it could be my fault? Mine'n Connor's? The outbreak?"

Milton raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"What?"

Murphy let out a gentle sigh. He'd been keeping it inside until now, simply because he didn't want to let Connor know that he was a bit scared and worried, simply because he didn't want to scare him, make him worried, or endanger his good relationship with the people from Woodbury. But he still wanted to know, still needed to know, because if this was really his fault, then he wanted to make up for it, be honest about it, make it right.

"Well, 's just…let's just say yer test with te pigs really is positive, aye. We brought them in here, I touched 'em, then I touched the meat that was on the barbeque yesterday, I also touched and picked those tomatoes Patrick ate, and then he died a couple 'a hours later and all the people who are sick are the people from _our_ block and I just…I can't help but wonder if we did this."

Milton looked at him for a little while and then let out a gentle sigh.

"It may be possible that the pigs were the cause and it may be be possible that you've transmitted the disease through touch."

"Fuck" Murphy said, his heart sinking a little. He had a look around to look at all the people around him.

"Having said that, if that were the case, it would be odd for you and your brother not to be affected by it. If you came in direct contact with infectious materials and fluids, you should be showing symptoms, too. Or at least one of you."

Murphy chewed on his lips.

"Except we're different anyway with te immunity and stuff."

Milton nodded.

"It is possible, yeah, but still very unlikely. We're talking about two entirely different infections. It's not common for cases of a certain rare immunity to apply to other diseases as well. I mean, there's cross immunity, but the organisms need to be similar, and Wildfire is nothing like any infectious disease we've ever seen before. We don't even really know enough about your immunity itself. If it's innate or naturally required, it's a bit of a mystery, if I…"

"So ye basically don' know jack-shit about te whole thing. We could be infected carriers without showin symptoms, or we could be completely fine" Murphy interrupted the scientific talk, because although he could understand some of it, it was still giving him a headache.

"That's what we're trying to find out and that's why I need blood samples."

"Huh" Murphy grumbled, bowing his head a little because he still didn't like that at all. In the end he seriously wanted too know, though.  
Needed to know if it was their fault, if they could help, if there was a solution. Because it was getting creepy.

"I'll get back ta you as soon as Conn gets back."

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when Murphy decided to go look for them, using his secret way out. He did not want to ask anyone else to come with him, despite his promise, despite him knowing that it was dangerous. But their town had been decimated just like that, everyone was busy trying to keep the disease under control, the rest was needed to keep watch. In the end he just didn't want to freak anyone out with his and Connor's overprotectiveness of each other, so he left town on his own, eager to find them.

Without any luck.

He could find the freshly dug graves, saw the crosses, the tire tracks just to their right, leading away from Woodbury. Murphy had a look around town, hoping to find Daryl and Connor there, but it really looked like the two of them had taken the car to leave town, for whatever reason. There were no more footsteps other than Connor's and Daryl's, there were no other tire tracks which meant that the two of them had left on their own, without being pursued by walkers or other people.

It calmed Murphy down a bit but that still didn't stop him from worrying. He knew about his brother's little habit by now. The leaving town with Daryl without telling anyone, doing whatever the fuck they were doing when they weren't around. But it was exactly that which made Murphy angry again, in the end, because Connor was being a fucking hypocrite.

Okay, so maybe he didn't break their promise because he wasn't going out here on his own after all, but still. It made the younger MacManus angry because it always made him worry, always made him wonder where Connor was and if he was alright. He had also made Daryl promise to look after his idiot brother, but he still couldn't quite trust him.

In the end he was just angry and jealous because he wasn't with them out there right now.

Murphy forced himself to wait some more, to not freak out over it like Connor usually did. He was going to wait some more, til nightfall. If Connor wasn't back from his little fucking getaway trip with his stupid loverboy or whatever, then he was going to ring the bell and get people to look for this idiot with him. Because much in contrast to Connor, he was actually willing to keep their promises, to make their relationship better again.

Maybe he roamed town a bit longer than necessary though, to be stubborn about it and make Connor worry for a bit in case he'd come back by now without him noticing. He explored some of Woodbury's abandoned houses, checked out the local bar (no drinks and cigs, shame) and stole a few books, he even had a look inside the real church that was off-limits (he had to kill two walkers in there, but he was used to it and it wasn't like the stinking fucks'd attack him), took his time to pray in there and then circled town for a final time, last stop the graves, hoping to find Connor this time.

He still wasn't to be seen anywhere.

In the end Murphy decided to head back inside, a bit more relaxed and carefree because his little stroll and the silence had been nice, but he was still a bit grumpy. _Connor better fuckin be back_ , he thought as he crawled his way through the little tunnel, climbing up and jumping down walls, covering the holes with heavy lumber and branches. He'd just walked around the corner and entered main street again when all hell broke loose.

"THERE HE IS!" someone was shouting from the other side, pointing right at Murphy, startling him and making him look like a rabbit caught in headlines.

* * *

**a couple of hours earlier**

It had been more than a bumpy ride up until now. The screeching of metal and aluminum against the hot asphalt, the shaking and rattling of the car with each tiny bump in the road. Connor turned his head once more, looking back, through the broken rear window, but the road was empty. No one had followed them, it really looked like they were alone.

"Ain't no use" Daryl suddenly said, making Connor look back at him.

The hunter could already feel his damn muscles ache from his constant gripping the steering wheel so tight to keep the car on the road, because the flat tire constantly made the vehicle steer to the right. Connor let out a gentle sigh, putting his legs back down, the ones which he'd rested on top of the dashboard. "Aye, already saw it comin" he muttered, looking around to maybe find a car or parking lot or house or something. "What is it with us and broken down cars 'n flat tires all te time. Thought shit like this only happens 'n shitty horror movies. 's pretty fuckin cliché."

Daryl snorted.

"Yah the one who managed t'crash a car and get his leg all messed up. _On an empty road_. So if someone's the definition of _cliché_ , it's gotta be you, leprechaun."

"Fuck ye, who's te one who wrapped a car around a tree with two other people inside, smartass."

"Yeah, it's cos you grabbed the wheel and made it spin outta control."

"Bullshit, you were the one who went fuckin Rambo on Mr Psycho and rammed him."

They both started chuckling right then and there, looking back at their crazy time spent together, something that was still so ridiculous.

"Think we lost 'em. Let's get the thing off the road, find a new tire or new car and get the hell back t'Woodbury" Daryl said after a while.

Connor leaned forward to have a better look outside.

"Do ye even know where we fuckin are?"

"Yeah, I do. We're South 'a town. Ain't taken I16. We would've led these bastards straight back t'town. Gonna swing West, use 74, make our way back, little detour, t'be on the safe side, make sure we lost 'em."

Connor grinned and chuckled.

"Aren'tche the smart one."

Daryl wouldn't look at his friend, but still started smirking as well.

"Well, someone's gotta be, considering that yah a brain dead dumbass."

Connor gave in to a little dirty laugh and patted Daryl's right thigh hard.

"Asshole."

* * *

"Pine Vista Country club" Connor read out loud, looking at the green sign with a little frown.

They had stopped their car by the intersection with the sign, looking in the direction of the building that was close by.

"Gotta have a parking lot. Maybe some cars with a car jack."

Connor snorted a little.

"Yeah, ye know what I see? Another little shiny white house dat looks all inviting and comfy and the next thing ye know there's another bunch'a cannibals ready t'eat us. It's practically old people's home all over again."

"Ain't no reason for us to go inside. Just gotta find a car jack" Daryl muttered, rubbing his mouth and then turning his head a little to give Connor a slight smirk. "You scared, pussy?"

"Of the possibility that I might have ta save yer sorry ass from creepy old dudes again? Aye. 'm not yer fuckin babysitter."

They started hitting each other's arms some, then Daryl accelerated once again. They barely managed to get the car to move once more, parking it close to the other abandoned cars by the parking lot. Daryl attempted to move it a little closer, but with its missing rear tire and not enough momentum the vehicle wasn't going anywhere. Not anymore, making their little stop even more needed.

"Looks like we ain't got no choice anyway" Daryl muttered, exiting the car, grabbing the crossbow.

Connor fixed his eyes on the country club building for a moment longer and then got out of the car as well, sighing.

"Here we go again."

He adjusted his clothes and grabbed one of his Berettas, cautiously approaching the building as Daryl knelt down beside the car to check the tire and see how bad it was, if they could change it. They did have a spare tire and tire iron but unfortunately, no car jack. Which is why they had stopped here in the first place, hoping to find one.

"Dude" Connor suddenly said, making Daryl look up with a frown.

Connor was grinning and then looking back at the vast golf course, pointing somewhere. Daryl got up and followed his friend to see what he was pointing at, because there were still a few trees blocking his view from the position he'd been in. When he stood right next to Connor and saw what he was pointing at, he let out yet another angry but also amused huff.

"No."

" _Dude_ " Connor repeated and then gave Daryl his almost childish grin. "We totally gotta take that one. I so wanna see ye drive a fucking thing like this" he said and started laughing. He was pointing at an abandoned golf cart that was parked right in the middle of the course.

" _Hell_ no" Daryl growled and started walking to head for the parking lot and get Connor to stop annoying him.

"Hell _yeah_. I'm totally gonna try that shit out, later" Connor muttered, still looking at the golf cart. Daryl just kept walking.

"Yeah, you do that. 'm gonna go back t'our people in the meantime, help the sick insteada being some childish dumbass."

Connor fell silent for a while, no longer grinning as they got closer to the couple of cars at the parking lot.

"Ye always gotta have that stick up yer arse, do ye?" he muttered after a while, instantly offended. "I was just trying ta raise our spirits a bit.  
I know shit's a fucking disaster back home."

Daryl looked at his friend for a moment, maybe he felt a bit sorry. But he just couldn't do stuff like Connor. Pretend and be an expert at it.

"Just wanna get back t'our people. 's all."

"Aye" Connor said, also a bit more worried again. "Shame we couldn't find out 'bout te pigs" he muttered, looking back at their car, cursing those strangers once more for just killing the old farmer and making it impossible to check out the possible cause.

"We still got Milton. He's gonna look at the blood and give us some info. Gonna work out."

They checked out the couple of cars that were parked there. Most of them had no more gas in them, all the useful stuff had been taken once more. Connor killed some walkers when they got closer, protecting Daryl from attacks since he was the one checking the cars' trunks. They eventually found a car jack, pretty rusty, but working still. They walked back to their car to get rid of the flat tire, and when Daryl started pumping to get their car up, Connor approached him and leaned against the hood of the car, arms folded, eyes scanning their surroundings like a hawk.

"Ye know we coulda just taken our gas and filled up the tank of one of these cars over here, right? Would be a whole lot easier than changing a fuckin flat tire" Connor muttered.

"Yeah, and I ain't gonna take some random old car I don't know jack-shit about why it was left here or how long's been here. 'd rather take one we fixed and that we've been using for months. Ain't exactly keen on breaking down in the middle of nowhere again. 's just a flat tire" Daryl grunted, which each pumping motion.

"Guess yer right" Connor answered, turning his head a little to look at the abandoned country club instead.

"We should check te place out when we're done" he suggested, making Daryl look up.

"No. We ain't wastin any more time than we have to. Our people are gonna be worried and we still ain't sure if those freaks've been following us but just fell behind."

"Well, and I say there could be medication and maybe even some supplies left in there. Our town's sick. We won' be able ta form large scavenging groups fer a while and our people might need more medication than we got ta offer. Country clubs mean old people with heart problems and pills and shit, right?"

Daryl stopped pumping with an exhausted huff and wiped the fringe out of his eyes, looking at Connor, arms and chest sweaty and dirty from all the work they'd done today. The Irishman fixed his eyes on his friend for a moment, maybe even staring a bit (fuck you, no he wasn't staring), and then shifted, quickly looking away.

"Ye get te tire, I check te place out" he said and already wanted to start walking when Daryl grabbed his arm to stop him.

"We ain't splittin up" he growled and then looked at Connor.

"Yah right. Place rings a bell. And if the other place taught us one thing, it's that we ain't gonna split up no more."

He then pressed the tire iron to Connor's chest.

"You get the tire. I check the rest of the cars for anything useful."

* * *

Daryl didn't find anything useful. There were some bags and suitcases, but most of them contained clothes and other unimportant stuff, things they did not need. He found one small plastic bottle with some liquid inside, liquid that had been boiled inside the hot car at least a trillion times over. When he got up he looked at Connor, making sure that he was doing fine and that there was no threat around him. The Irishman no longer looked like he was in a happy or jokester mood, now that he though no one was watching him play his act. His mouth was a thin pale line and the look on his face was hardened once again, not just from the hard work but also because he seemed to be lost in thoughts.

Daryl felt sorry once more. He still didn't know why he was always like that. Grumpy, blocking Connor's countless efforts to cheer him up. He actually appreciated all the things his friend was doing for him, in this very moment, they even made him smile. Just looking at Connor made him smile. He really appreciated his constant company, their relationship, the way they were together.

As soon as there was no more reason to worry, as soon as they had fought this new and strange flu string, he was going to change things. He was going to try to be nicer to Connor. To give more back. To really let him know how much he liked him. But not right now. Not when everything was so uncertain, when they really weren't supposed to be joking around.

He finally stopped looking at Connor and approached the old building, to go ahead and do some preparatory work, looking inside the windows, shaking the doors.

* * *

Connor looked up from his work when he heard the rattling of the door. He saw Daryl by the country club building, checking the doors and windows, searching one of the corpses that were lying there. It looked like he finally agreed with Connor's idea and plan to check the place for anything useful as well, and for a moment it made him smile. Of course, Daryl would always be like that. Never giving in, always pretending to be grumpy and stubborn and all about his own ideas when he was not really like that. He knew that Daryl was actually quite eager to please people, please him. He just wasn't very vocal about it.

Connor didn't get to smile for too long, because now that the sun was constantly shining down on him again and now that he was changing the tire and doing some physical work, the headache and heaviness of his limbs was right back. He felt a bit dizzy and just not good, wondering if it was a combination of the hangover and maybe a light heatstroke, although he also still feared the other possibility.

Now that he was left to himself with nothing but his thoughts and the heavy work of having to change a tire, he felt all sorts of things again, worried about all sorts of things. He wondered how Murphy was doing back in Woodbury, if he was alright, if there were going to be more cases when they got back. He had no idea how fast the infection was moving, and Daryl's little grumpy remark had pulled right out of his post-killer-escape adrenaline rush and right back into disease-ridden-town reality.

Daryl was right. They needed to get back.

He coughed once, clearing his throat and shaking his head, adjusting and fastening the lugs a bit faster.

* * *

The place stank like hell.

They were done getting their car ready, they were ready to leave, but eager to do one sweep of the building like Connor had suggested, hoping to find some useful medication or other stuff. All the windows of the Pine Vista country club had been boarded up. There were countless sleeping bags and clothes lying around the room that had once been the large dining area. But what was the most important and sad thing about the whole place and the very reason why it smelled so bad:

Corpses.

Countless corpses.

Both Connor and Daryl pulled a face, the Irishman covering his mouth and coughing, Daryl just looking around and keeping his crossbow raised with a disgusted look on his face. It took Connor a moment but then he could stop coughing and trying to gag from the smell. He grabbed his knife in his one hand and his Beretta with the other hand instead, pointing the weapons at the supposedly dead, making sure that they were dead.

They made their way through the hall like that, scanning the corpses, looking around, slow and steady. Connor had been right although he certainly hadn't meant it like that. Many of the corpses were indeed those of elderly people, they could tell by the colour of their hair and their clothes and jewelry. They looked they might've even been the club members themselves back in the day, surprised by sudden walking corpses in the middle of a golf match.

When Connor and Daryl got to the back area of the hall they were even more shocked, because there weren't just dead people, there were also walkers. Except they weren't walking. Couldn't. They were hanging from the ceiling, letting out raspy, dry groans and gasps, reaching out for them.

"One hell of a party in here" Daryl muttered, his voice flat, trying to 'joke' but not being able to hide his shock and sadness over the sight of all this. He even went so far and turned his head a little to look at Connor because it also reminded him of his friend and his crazy suicide attempt. "Wanna join 'em?" he muttered and immediately wanted to hit himself in his face for being so stupid and mean. Connor snorted angrily and glared at him for a moment, only to fix his eyes on the swaying walkers again.

"That's not funny, asshole."

They carefully approached the walkers, trying to get closer and see how they'd been tied up and if they had done it themselves.

It didn't look like it. All the other corpses who were lying around looked like they had been shoot and executed, indicating that there had been some sort of massacre going on here. After letting his gaze wander for a minute longer and no longer fixing his eyes on the hanging walkers, Daryl quickly fixed his eyes on several handbags and decided to search them instead. For medication, for anything useful.

Connor just kept looking at the moving walkers for a while, and after giving Daryl a disapproving look he decided to go ahead and approach them. He grabbed a chair and climbed up it in front of the first walker, who didn't look like she wanted to bite him but kept reaching out for him nevertheless, obviously stimulated by seeing the first moving thing and person in god knows how long.

"Hey, when I asked if yah wanted t'join 'em I was fuckin kidding!" Daryl exclaimed and immediately sprang back to his feet, alarmed by how close his friend was to the walkers and by the fact that he was standing on some chair again, so close to a rope. "Shut it" Connor grunted and stabbed the hanging walker in her eye, only to then use the knife to cut her rope. She fell dead to the ground, no longer moving or groaning.

Daryl just watched his friend, lips pressed together.

"What's the point, they ain't gonna hurt nobody no more and they ain't goin nowhere" he muttered and then got back to searching the bags in the meantime. Connor moved his chair another three times and repeated the stabbing and cutting multiple times until there were no more walker sounds to be heard.

Although Daryl was still busy searching he occasionally fixed his eyes on his friend, curious to see what he was doing.

Connor was moving the bodies on their backs, crossing their arms over their chests and then crossing himself, muttering a quick prayer.  
He then looked around the room some more, getting back up with a frown, heading for the room next door with a muttered "Te fuck."

Daryl, who had been busy snagging some candy from a bowl on one of the tables, looked up in surprise and quickly followed his friend next door, fixing his eyes on the bodies with the crossed arms on his way out. When he walked through the door he suddenly found himself inside an abandoned sports outfitter, golf clubs and cardigans and all. Although he considered cardigans pretty fucking ugly and horrible, they certainly weren't the most horrific thing in the room this time.

Connor was staring at the mutilated corpse of a woman. The entire lower half of her body, from the navel down, had been cut off and was nowhere to be found. She'd been placed on top of the lower section of a display dummy, leaned against the wall, her shirt ripped open. There wasn't just her bra covering her breasts though. They could clearly see a sign that had been nailed to her chest.

 _RICH BITCH_ it read.

Daryl raised his eyebrows a little, frowning, pointing at the mess.

"I saw another one of those back'n Peachtree. When me'n your bro went lookin for some trapping gear."

"That's really fucked up" Connor said, looking around the store. There were more corpses lying around here, either shot or stabbed, too.  
But only one of them wore the sign. _Rich Bitch_.

"They weren't walkers when they got killed. These people were murdered in here. Hung and shot" he observed, walking around some more, checking the place out. He looked back at the dining hall they'd just left, saw the tables and beds there. There was some old rotten food, even some champagne, and candles, even a couple of pictures of children and smiling families by the improvised beds. "Looks like they were doing fine before it happened. Must've been one of te better places ta stay at. Not too many houses around here, golf course gave 'em clear line of sight.."

"Yeah, looks like ain't been good enough" Daryl just muttered, walking around, too, but ignoring the corpses.  
He checked out some more cabinets and cupboards in the meantime.

"Peachtree, ye say?" Connor asked after a while, still observing the woman with a frown.

Daryl nodded, chewing on one of the candies he'd taken from the room next door.

"Uh-huh."

"So we got sightings of strange fucked up happenings in Sharpsburg, Peachtree and now te old farmer's property. We met people who executed teenagers and tried ta kill us, next thing we do is find an entire group of people slaughtered and executed. And it's happening all around our little town."

There was a little pause as Daryl kept rummaging through the place and Connor thought about this.

"I told ye we shoulda killed those motherfuckers."

"Come on, that's bullshit. This ain't Boston and this ain't about your Saints crap. We got away, they ain't been following us, we ain't got a problem" Daryl growled and turned around, looking across the store, right at Connor. The Irishman let out a little frustrated sigh and bowed his head a little, rubbing his forehead, closing his eyes. Daryl looked at him a little while, waiting for his friend to say something, but Connor kept quiet, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Let's just get back, alright"Daryl said, quieter this time and a little worried, approaching Connor so he could nudge his chest in a gentle gesture.

Connor leaned into the touch and Daryl was suprised for a moment when he suddenly wondered if he should and could kiss him to get him to chill, but Daryl quickly shook the thought off and just walked past him.

"Come on."

* * *

They only found a couple of pills inside a bunch of bags and cabinets. They did not waste too much time inside the building, because it was larger than it had looked like on the outside. They didn't want to leave their car out there for too long with no one watching it, so in the end, they decided to stop searching and headed back.

Connor was strangely quiet and absent-minded again, staring out of the window to his right, watching the trees pass by, lost in thoughts. Daryl looked at his friend every now and then, once again feeling slightly guilty because he thought it was his fault Connor was no longer joking and laughing about. He concentrated on the road for a bit but ended up looking at the Irishman more and more, until he decided to break the silence.

"Good lord, yah don't ever shut up, do yah? Seriously should've letcha take the golf cart ride home" he teased, trying to start a conversation with a topic he knew had made Connor laugh before. His friend did smile, but it was only a tiny, tired smile and that was it. Connor wouldn't say anything, he just smiled a little and kept looking out of the window.

Which pissed Daryl off a bit.

Connor was usually pretty easy to bait. He was usually pretty giving, picking up on conversation starters and keeping them going, but this time he wouldn't do anything. And Daryl wasn't exactly good at being direct about anything. But he still wanted to know. And since he had already thought about this earlier, when he'd made the decision to make everything better, he decided to just go ahead this time.

"What is it this time" he said, still failing slightly because for some reason, he just couldn't get out a simple _What's the matter with you, are you alright?_

Connor shook his head and kept looking out of the window, moving his fingers through his hair and massaging his scalp a bit.

"'s nothing" he muttered and Daryl pressed his lips together, gripping the steering wheel tighter, angry because Connor wouldn't talk, angry with himself because he didn't know how to get this going because he seriously wanted to know what was up and hated to see his friend like this. "'m just worried" Connor eventually said, rubbing his left thigh a bit which made Daryl watch and stare for a moment. He swallowed once and then forced himself to look back at the road.

"We found some pills. They're gonna be alright."

"'s not just te fuckin flu" Connor muttered, shaking his head. "I got a bad feeling about tha other group. Doesn' matter how much of the stuff they did, where they were. They're still too fuckin close and I think we should've killed 'em just ta be save."

Daryl let out a deep, frustrated sigh, trying really hard to stay calm. It took a couple of minutes, but then he got it under control and started talking.

"Listen, just cos you got your bro back it don't mean yah gotta go back t'yer Saints crap…"

"It's not about te fucking Saints crap, alright? I mean ye saw te fucking country club place. There were about twenty people, slaughtered and hung, an entire group. Sharpsburg, Peachtree, te club, that's all real fuckin close ta Woodbury. And right now with the Flu going on and all that bullshit, we're not exactly prepared fer a surprise visit from a group with fucking army trucks and heavy artillery. All I'm saying is, we should take care of it and pay them a visit before they pay _us_ a visit next. We got children, we got sick people, me fuckin brother's there fer fuck's sake."

"We ain't no country club with old couples who don't know shit 'bout guns and fighting!" Daryl protested and glared at his friend once more. " We got walls, good fighters, some heavy artillery, too. We got ourselves a problem we're gonna deal with it as it comes. So all _I'm_ sayin is, yah gotta fuckin chill."

Connor shook his head angrily and pressed his clenched fist to his mouth, not saying another word though.  
Daryl shook his head a bit as well, trying to stay cool and not mess everything up between them again.

"Let's just take care of the inside problem first. Figure the flu shit out, take care of the sick ones. Once we're done figuring this out, yah can still do your omnibus shit."

This time, Daryl managed to make Connor laugh, simply because of their old inside joke. The hunter had gotten the MacManus prayer wrong one day, saying omnibus instead of dominus, although that word didn't even turn up in the prayer as well. But he didn't know much about Latin and prayers, didn't care much about it and saying it right, which had made Connor laugh and would always make him laugh.

Much to Daryl's satisfaction, because his friend calmed down a bit, indeed. He still looked a bit worried and he still was thinking too hard about countless things, but at least he was finally smiling a bit. Connor eventually stared chuckling once more, swallowing the wrong way, starting to cough, but laughing through it.

* * *

They had expected a bit of a harsh welcome because it had taken them too long with the little detour after burying the bodies.  
What they hadn't expected though, was the greeting they were actually getting.

None at all.

Because the town was practically up in arms.

There were two scenarios happening at once. It was hard for them to get inside Woodbury at first, at least with their car. Because people were piling up on the other side of the gate, with two cars blocking the way and honking all the way through. Glenn and two men from Woodbury were on top of the wall, weapons in their hands, shouting down at the mob that had obviously formed in front of the gate, not really noticing Connor and Daryl at first, who stepped outside their car to figure out what was going on, looking at each other, frowning. The honking and shouting on the other side wouldn't stop, making it obvious that this was about people trying to leave, the reason why no one was obviously going to open the gate for them now.

"Glenn!" Daryl shouted, trying to get their friend's attention, but it was simply too loud.

"Just calm down!" the Korean was shouting, trying to keep the angry mob at bay, just like the other two men.  
Daryl and Connor could also hear Andrea and Sasha shout things at the crowd.

"It's not safe here anymore! We want to leave!"  
"If you're not throwing them out, we're gonna leave!"  
"I'm not going to be locked up with sick people who end up dying anyway! I don't wanna get gutted!"  
"Let us out!"

Some people in the crowd were shouting, making the picture clear.  
Mass hysteria had finally hit their town after the outbreak. During their absence.

"Glenn!" Daryl shouted once more after shooting Connor an alarming look, and this time the Korean noticed them.

"Daryl? Where the hell have you been?"

He turned his head once more, trying to tell the crowd to calm down and listen. He then fixed his eyes on the two friends again.

"What te fuck's going on?!" Connor asked in surprise, trying to see anything, but the gates and wall made it impossible. All he could do was hear the chaos.

"Someone killed Karen and David, and now everyone's freaking out. And those quarantined don't want to enter the apartments!"

"I'm not sick and I'm not gonna let you lock me up with the ones who are! I'm not gonna let my ass get burned next!"  
"You can't keep us here!"

"Alright, we're gonna use the other way in!" Daryl shouted back, trying to drown the shouting out, understanding that there obviously was no way in through the gate right now without their people storming out and abandoning their town in a hurry. He nudged Connor and headed back to their car, getting their things and leaving it by the gate, hoping to get it back inside town later.

Connor stared up at the wall a moment longer, headache getting really worse from all the shouting, and just for a moment he was actually quite shocked to see how quickly things were spiraling out of control, and then it hit him. Murphy was in there as well! He quickly followed his friend to the secret way out they had found just yesterday night.

Funny that.

It was so absurd. Yesterday night. This one had been so nice. No chaos. No worry. Just alcohol and fun. And now this. _How the fuck had it all gone to shit like that? In less than 24 hours?_ He didn't need that shit right now. Not when he was finally happy, not when things were finally going well between him and Daryl, between him and Murphy.

Murphy who was still in there, Murphy, who better be doing okay.

* * *

It turned out that the mob by the gates wasn't even the only problem. They could see Andrea, Sasha, Glenn and a few others who were trying to calm the rest of their people down. The idiot inside the car still wouldn't stop honking the horn, making everything more chaotic, more frantic. Connor and Daryl wanted to head for the gate and help people there, but then they noticed another, second crowd of people that had formed by one of the smaller houses down main street, the space there that separated it from the neighboring house. They could hear some excited muttering and most of all yelling there, too, not really recognizing the voices at first simply because everything was so loud, so chaotic.

But then Connor could hear it. Could hear _him._

Murphy was yelling as well.

"Murph!" Connor immediately shouted, starting to sprint the moment he heard it. Daryl came after him a moment later, just as freaked out. They barely managed to fight their way through the crowd of bystanders but then they were there, behind the house, in the backyard, facing the couple of people who were back there. Rick, Carol, Wendy, Tyreese, Michael.

Connor's heart was already pounding so hard that he feared he could have a heart attack, not just from the running, but also the fear of having heard Murphy yell that much. Before he got to say something or ask what was up he just got even more shocked, his heart skipping a beat, his eyes widening.

There were two corpses lying on the patches of burned grass, right here in this backyard.  
Their bodies still smoking and radiating heat, the skin black like coal. A large trail of blood, leading all the way back to the shed.

The shed.

 _David from the Decatur group, he's been coughing, too._  
There's some old camp beds in the shed behind your building, right?  
Yeah, we'll meet you there. Come on. Let's get you settled.

Karen and David. Their first two cases of coughing infected.  
Murdered. Dragged out here to be displayed. Burned.

Tyreese looked beyond furious and heartbroken.

But that wasn't even the worst part.

The way the two dead had been aligned and arranged was the worst part.

Arms crossed over their chests.  
Pennies in their eyes.  
And although it was hard to make out because they were so burned, he still believed to see the two gunshot wounds to their heads.

He knew the sight of that. All too well. He'd seen it countless times.

Whenever he and Murphy had murdered someone.

The only detail that was off was the burning. But other than that it looked like a _perfect_ copy of their procedure, their murders.

Connor stared at Murphy in shock who finally saw him, too. His face red and nothing but an angry grimace.  
Murphy was completely beside himself with rage, staring at the others like a wild animal, and Connor finally understood what this was about.

People were thinking that his brother had done this.

"Conn, tell 'em I didn' fuckin do it!" Murphy immediately shouted, still beyond furious, shocked, and obviously: scared to death. Connor and Daryl had a quick look around and then the older MacManus immediately approached his sibling and placed himself in front of him, between Murphy and Tyreese who was looking at his brother like he was about to murder him for this, fists clenched, eyes wide open, heartache and rage obvious in his eyes. Tyreese was pretty intimidating right now, simply because he was larger and brawnier than both MacManus twins combined.

"Te fuck's going on here, what happened?"

" _I didn' do it_ 's what fuckin happened!" Murphy yelled once more, unable to control his fit of rage over this inequity.

"I came to see Karen, and this is how I found her!" Tyreese said, a bit too quiet for this occasion.

"He didn't do it" Connor said matter of factly, looking Tyreese straight in the eye.

Daryl, who also had his yes fixed on Tyreese, carefully approached the man from behind, ready to act in case things spun out of control.

"He shot them in their heads, dragged them out here, and set them on fire! He killed her!" Tyreese suddenly shouted and tried to get to Murphy, but Connor wouldn't let him. Daryl tried to reach for Tyreese shoulder to keep him away, Murphy started yelling all sorts of things again, trying to defend himself.

"You're a cop! You know about these two! You know what they've been doing before the turning, you _knew_ what they are and you let them stay, people told me, people know that this…!" Tyreese shouted, looking at Rick and then pointing at the burning bodies once more "..is what they did before and now Karen's dead!"

"I told ye, I wasn't even here ye fuckin bastard! I was out there lookin fer my brother!" Murphy kept yelling as well, trying to get people to stop blaming him, but Connor wouldn't let him do anything, he held him by his arm and that so tight that it hurt, keeping him in place, turning around for a moment to give his sibling a warning glare.

"There's blood on your shirt!" Tyreese retorted, pointing at the stains. Murphy looked down at himself in utter shock.

"'s cos I had ta kill fuckin walkers out there! When I went ta this church, and I... Listen, I know what it..." he tried to keep going, but Tyreese wouldn't let him.

" Nobody saw it, you're lying, it was you and you know it!"

"Hey come on, it ain't his fault, he was…" Daryl suddenly said, trying to to pull Tyreese back but the man shook him off with a violent twitch of his muscular arm.  
Tyreese wouldn't stop looking at Connor and Murphy in the meantime.

"Tyreese, just listen t'me, alright?" Connor spoke up then, voice especially calm, hands raised in a soothing gesture as he carefully stepped away from Murphy and approached Tyreese, trying to make him walk backwards a bit.

"Ye know me, hey! Hey, look at me and listen t'me. Ye know me. Y'know me, y'know Daryl and ye know the rest of the group. Y'know most of my history, and y'know that we've been doing everything t'keep our town safe so far."

"You, I know, but none of us know him!" Tyreese shouted, still mad from his heartbreak and the loss of his girlfriend.

"He's my _twin brother_ , alright" Connor said, snarling the words a bit more this time. "We're one and te same and I'm telling ye, we didn' do it. Yes, we've killed people. And we're not ashamed ta admit that. But ye can ask anybody, Rick, Daryl, Hershel. We're good men. We had rules back then. We killed bad guys. Child molesters, mafiosos, rapists, murderers. But no women, no children. No innocent people. We did te penny thing, we did te cross thing but we didn' fuckin burn people. 's not Christian and we..."

"Karen didn't deserve this! David didn't deserve it, no one deserves to be shot and killed because _you_ think they're evil! Nobody does!"

"I didn't fuckin kill her, I didn' have a fuckin reason, I didn' even know her! Connor, ye gotta fuckin tell 'em I didn'.."

"I know you didn't do it, fer fuck's sakes!" Connor suddenly spat, turning around to look at Murphy, angered by his sibling just kept making it worse.

"Just..go, leave 'n go ta Daryl's apartment and let me handle it, yer just gonna.."  
"No 'm not gonna fuckin go, 'm gonna make te fucker understand that I didn' fuckin do it!"

"You killed her no matter what! With- or without a bullet!" Tyreese roared, making Connor look at him again, in shock.

"What?"

"We know he's the cause. He turns up with a scar from a headshot and a bite wound to his shoulder. Michael and Jerry saw him fight these walkers the day the wall nearly gave in, when they wouldn't attack him. We know he's infected just like you, we've heard you talk about it. Then people start turning inside _your_ apartment block after eating the food _he's_ served and after livingunder the same roof with _him_. And now they're dying and turning and he's trying to cover his tracks by killing my girlfriend you…!" he shouted, instigating himself more and more until he tried to launch himself at Murphy once more.

Connor automatically tried to block the attack but then it was Daryl who suddenly pulled Tyreese back, making the large man turn around and launch himself at the hunter instead. He shoved Daryl against the wall, yelling and demanding justice, and when Connor and Murphy both wanted to go after him to stop him from attacking their friend over something he had nothing to do with, Daryl suddenly raised his hand and shook his head with wide eyes, trying to stop them.

Daryl then lowered both his hands, staring at Tyreese who was pressing him against the wall, grabbing his shirt with tight fists, breathing heavily from the sheer anger that was raging through his body.

"We're all on the same side, man" Daryl growled, looking Tyreese straight in the eye. "And he didn't do it. He came out there lookin for us. We sent him back. Whoever did this planted it on 'im." Tyreese still wouldn't let Daryl go, glaring at him, listening to what he had to say. "You really think he'd risk his ass leading a whole herd of walkers away t'protect people he don't even know…just t'randomly start killing those people the next day?"

There was silence for a moment and then Murphy approached the man, despite Connor's tries to keep him back.

"Listen, Sir. I swear ta god. I didn' kill yer girlfriend. I _swear_ …" he said, coming closer and closer. Tyreese kept glaring at Daryl in the meantime, who looked back at him and nodded, trying to defuse the situation. He could already feel the other man's hand loosen on his shirt, like he was calming down.

The next move took everyone by surprise though. From one second to the next he suddenly turned around, struck out and punched Murphy really hard in the face with a loud "You step back!". He hit the younger MacManus so hard that he fell to the ground, knocked out, because the blow had happened right to his already fragile and previously injured head, close to the spot where he'd been shot.

"YOU SICK MOTHERFUCKER I SAID HE DIDN' DO IT!" Connor immediately roared as loud as he could, launching himself at Tyreese, throwing hard, merciless punches. Seeing Murphy like that just made his mind stop working. From one second to the next, like someone had flipped a switch, Connor turned into an animal and started fighting with Tyreese, and although the other man was larger and brawnier he had a hard time keeping the upper hand, simply because Connor was so furious.

"That's enough!" Daryl shouted in shock, circling the fighting men and managing to grab Connor from behind, trying to move him away, but his friend was so in rage that he shook him off with such a force that it actually surprised the hunter.

Connor freed himself and managed to hit Tyreese with a force equal to the one the other had gathered to knock his sibling out cold, making Tyreese fall down as well. Murphy still wasn't conscious and bleeding from the punch, with Carol and Wendy trying to wake him up. The sight of bloody Murphy on the floor knocked out from a blow to his head just snapped something inside Connor once more because it reminded him of _that_ day, so he climbed on top of the man who'd just hurt his sibling and started punching him in his face multiple times, merciless, unforgiving, brutal.

Daryl ran for his friend once more and wrapped an his arms around his throat and shoulders, shouting for him to just stop and calm down, pulling harder until he was almost strangling him. It was that and a final punch in his stomach from Tyreese that suddenly made Connor topple over and fall to the side, coughing from the lack of air and exhaustion and rage and then suddenly, coughing some more. And more. Until he couldn't stop.

It was the never ending stress from today, the heat, the worry, the fleeing and working and shouting and fighting that final broke his system, that made him lose the struggle and fight he'd been fighting all day, fighting and ignoring the constant scratching in his throat, all the signs he'd tried to mask with hard work and jokes.

Connor couldn't stop coughing and finally allowed himself to collapse under the stress and the looming infection, because he couldn't fight two fights at once, because although he'd won the one against Tyreese ,who was now lying weeping on the ground, he ultimately lost the fight against the flu.

Murphy still wasn't conscious after the brutal blow and it was almost like now that someone had 'switched him off' their twin connection automatically made Connor stop functioning as well. Deep and throaty coughs escaped his mouth as he tried to get back up but ended up staying like that, half lying there, facing the ground, fists clenched, coughing.

* * *

**the same day, hours before, early morning**  
South of East Coweta Middle School

It was easy for them to lose track, direction, purpose. They had been following the sound of a moving car just yesterday, but had forgotten all about it the moment they started moving to pursue it. But it was the movement itself that kept them going, because if the one walker up front was walking, so were they. Staggering around the fields, sometimes following the roads, sometimes just walking cross-country. In formation, more or less. Sometimes they were following an animal, sometimes a spare piece of paper, whatever was moving and whatever their decaying eyes could make out.

In fact, for a while it looked like they were going to miss the town of Woodbury, simply because they were now heading South-West again. Not East.

Things changed the moment one of the walkers with better hearing picked up on the faintest and quietest sounds of gunshots, somewhere in the distance, carried over by the wind. The decaying walking corpse who had once been a 36 year old college professor, slowly raised his decaying head, widening his dry, dead eyes a little, picking up on the noise, automatically shoving and scrambling further to the side. More and more walkers were picking up on the sudden new impulse, following it, swaying over to the right, changing direction, herd mentality keeping them moving.

**the same day, moments before the fight  
Interstate 16, South of Woodbury**

They had been following the sound of faint gunshots, forgotten the moment they heard them earlier this morning. Once again they had gotten back to the simple purpose of walking around, no mind, no thoughts, no plans, no life. Just walking, for the sake of walking, and if they could still hope, hoping for some fresh meat. It was the never-ending sound of a honking car that changed their direction for a final time, sealing their next victim's fate. The town was too noisy, too nervous, too worried, the chaos oozing out of it like the smell of a five star dinner, drawing them right in, sealing their final course. A herd of at least one hundred walkers was shuffling down the interstate, heading right for the small town of Woodbury.


	23. Black Sheep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo. Sorry it's taken me so superlong this time. I had so much to do with university stuff (I'm a vision mxier/live editor now, wohooo!), then I got sick (the irony), but now I got some more time and feel better again, so here's a new and long chapter for you. It's getting more and more interesting, the plot thickens, lol. Thank you for all the kuddos and hits (just passed the 1k, wohoo!)
> 
> So now you get some more Connaryl, some Darphy (I -love- writing their relationship more and more. Connaryl will always be OTP and endgame, but it's a nice change to explore a new dynamic as well!) some disease and threats and everything, the whole package. Don't worry about the shippy either, you're gonna get a whole LOT more (and intense things) of that sooner or later (got everything planned out), but right now I can't really give you much sexay time because we have to remember that a) I made them screw around for three nights or more in a row and b) CONNOR IS SIIIIICK
> 
> This is based on S04E03 "Isolation", but I did loads of shifting scenes and writing them differently. But all in all, the season 4 progression is still the same for the most part. You know my writing. Mix of my stuff and canon material.
> 
> P.s.: I'm sure that this fic will be even longer than Damnation. I'm SO sorry. Really, I write wayyyyy too much stuff.

 

* * *

  
"I'm alright, I'm alright" Connor forced out between deep, throaty coughs the moment he saw Daryl run for him, trying to place a hand on his back to get him back up. He knew he was far from alright because he finally allowed himself to feel like shit, felt the infection invade his aching lungs, made his diaphragm burn with pain from the tension and infection, felt how it clogged up his sinuses and throat.

The last time he'd felt like that had been during the day and night after the first time a walker had bit him, but he still needed to be alright because he _couldn't allow_ himself to be sick, not when everything they had worked and fought so hard for was falling to shit, not when Murphy was lying there on the ground, suddenly cramping up and flinching like he was being electrocuted.

"Murph" Connor tried to shout but his throat burned and made him cough once more, as he clumsily tried to get back on his feet, heading for his sibling. Carol and Rick where there with his brother, trying to see what was wrong, and Connor nearly lost it when Daryl held him back once again, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, keeping him away.

"Fuck off!, Te fuck's wrong with my brother?!"

"Don't touch him! He needs to make it through this alone, he might hurt himself otherwise" Carol said to keep Rick from holding shaking Murphy down. All she did was trying to stabilize his head a little, watching him with caution.

"Te fuck's going on? I said get off!" Connor shouted, still fighting Daryl, watching the whole scenario in horror although his violent coughs made it hard to concentrate.

"He's having an epileptic seizure. The damage to his brain might've caused this" she said, carefully and gently pointing at the scar on Murphy's forehead. For just a moment Connor didn't know how to breathe, not just because of the cough but also because of the shock, the guilt. He knew that seizures like that could be a result of brain damage and a malfunction of nerves, but up until now, Murphy had been fine, had acted normal, had been normal, _so why the fuck was this happening now?_

Connor tried hard to relax, to stay strong for his twin. He still fought Daryl's arms, trying to get to Murphy to help, but ended up grabbing Daryl's arm as hard as he could, holding on, tight and shaky as he watched his sibling struggle, feeling his pain, aching just as much until Murphy just stopped and stilled.

"Te fuck's going on now?" Connor breathed, starting to struggle and cough once more.

"It's alright. He's just sleeping. He's made it through, he's okay."

"Te fuck he is, he looked like he got electrocuted fer fuck's sake!" Connor exclaimed and still tried to get to his sibling, but Daryl wouldn't let him.

"You're infected man, and he's vulnerable. Yah can't go there, you wanna get him sick, too?" Daryl muttered, in his ear, trying to calm his friend down although he was pretty close to freaking out as well. He knew it wouldn't take too long and he was going to flip as well, maybe start yelling at Connor some for being so stupid and how dare him get sick, but right now he understood that his friend needed the support, needed to be held back and calmed down before he hurt himself or anyone else over this.

Connor supposed his friend was right. He was sick and he knew it, and he sure as hell didn't want to infect Murphy with a disease that made people chew on their own guts and that possibly made their eyes pop out. He knew that he was fucked, knew that everything was screwed, but right now he wanted nothing more than be with his brother, hold him, make him alright, protect him from all this mess.

Murphy had been his rock up until now. He'd had the scar but other than that he'd been perfectly fine. Had been his usual self, the little shit who listened to no one, who was strong and did stuff simply because he was so stubborn, always getting himself in trouble. But right now Murphy wasn't alright at all, Daryl was right. His twin was vulnerable, had suffered through this not just because of his headshot (which made the guilt worse again) but also because…. He turned his head with an incredibly angry look on his face and glared at Tyreese, who was still lying on the ground, beat up, weeping, looking at his burned girlfriend. Murphy had been fine until the man had punched him that hard, possibly opening up old wounds or good knows what.

"He said he didn't do it, ye crazy motherfucker! I'm gonna.." Connor yelled as loud as he could, once again mad with rage and his protective instinct kicking right in, but he didn't get to finish the threat and the accuse because another throaty cough escaped his mouth, and the moment he managed to fight Daryl with incredible force and tried to get back up to start yet another fight, his legs suddenly gave in. The infection, the stress and the terror over Murphy's seizure finally made him collapse under heavy coughs as well, zapping him out of reality with black and white dots and the ringing in his ears. Connor was unconscious before he hit the ground.

* * *

"They didn' do it" Daryl said matter of factly, looking at Rick, who was kneeling on the ground, looking at the burned corpses, the blood, the tracks. They had managed to clear out most of the people, the chaos was slowly calming down. The honking and yelling by the gates had stopped by now, but it still didn't feel like they were safe again. Daryl, Rick, Carol, Hershel and a few others who had something to do with the council or the MacManus twins had gathered at the 'scene of the crime' to try and solve the puzzle, to find out who had committed those murders.

"Well, how do you know. I mean, they were killers before this, right? They admitted to it…" Wendy said and Daryl glared at her.

"Cos I _know_ 'em" he growled, pointing at the corpses. "This ain't 'em. Besides, what's the point, why should he do that stuff? He don't even know 'em."

"How exactly did you find him back in Savannah, in what shape was he?" Hershel asked, looking at Daryl.

The hunter had short flashbacks. The countless fights, Murphy's constant struggling and blaming Connor. He knew his lookalike was a bit emotional and had even more problems with his temper than he did. It was also true that his reunion with his twin hadn't exactly been brotherly. Up until now, Murphy hadn't really said much about how he had spent the past year. Certainly not told him, and he was pretty sure that he hadn't told Connor much either because Connor would've told him otherwise.

It was true that he and all the others didn't know too much about Murphy. Sure, they knew that he'd been shot, bit, injured and followed by the scientists from Augusta. They knew about the problems connected to his headshot and the immunity. They couldn't trust him as much as Connor did, but since Daryl trusted the other Irishman he just _had_ to trust his brother as well.

"Couldn' believe he got his bro back. He was just real glad they found each other" he lied, the first lie he'd really told his group.  
But right now he was far more loyal to Connor than them. He didn't want them to throw Murphy out because he knew Connor would leave as well.

"And he was all alone there, back in Savannah? Alone all the time? After he got bit and shot?" Rick asked, looking up at Daryl who stared back at him.

"Getting injured and left behind by a loved one can be really traumatic for some people. Being on one's own can be…" Hershel tried to say, but Daryl wouldn't let him finish, desperate not to give the others any ideas. "M wasn't alone. He told us 'bout a group he was with back in Savannah. Old people, sick ones. Even wanted t'go back for 'em but Connor wouldn't let 'im. He's a good guy."

He looked around the group of people, then at the corpses, only to fix his eyes on Rick.

"Hey, I know what'cha thinkin. But 'm _telling_ yah. Someone planted this on 'em" he explained, pointing at the corpses. "Connor told me 'bout 'em killings. Ain't ever mentioned burning people. They're Catholics, right? Some of 'em view cremation as unholy or shit like that. And yah've been working with the kid. M helped you with your garden, helped Terry with the food, hell, even helped me get the trappin gear. I get thatcha worried, but you learned t'trust Connor, didn' you? Let 'im teach Carl how to shoot, he risked his ass trying t'keep us all safe. And 'm tellin yah, ain't no reason for him or his bro t'kill no one."

"But the food and the stuff Ty mentioned's exactly the point, ain't it?" Michael suddenly spoke up, approaching the corpses a bit.

"And Hershel's right, too. The kid turns up with scars from a walker attack and an attempted headshot. Probably spent months on his own, got left behind by his own brother, got infected with a disease that normally kills people. Guys like that can't be right in their heads. And now he thinks he's a knight in shining armor, killing 'evil' for the greater good. They teach kids how t'shoot in our library cos 'they gotta be prepared', next thing we know an infection breaks out, two infected end up burned. The way I see it, Ty and the others got a point. It's all pretty fuckin convenient" he said, looking Daryl right in the eye.

"New 'immune' infected guy turns up in our fair little town, walkers don't attack 'im meaning they think he's one of them, and just a couple 'a days later an infection suddenly breaks out in _their_ block and turns people into walkers, a disease they're immune to. And as soon as people start coughing, they view them as evil and gotta kill 'em for 'the greater good'."

"Yeah, and I ain't ever heard that much bullshit before. Cos Connor obviously got sick, smartass" Daryl snarled, walking right up to the man, staring him in the eye.

"And yah had me at your library bullshit, you been watchin too much TV, asshole."

"The library was my idea" Carol suddenly said, looking at everyone until she fixed her eyes on Rick.

"I didn't mean no harm. I just wanted everyone to be prepared. Connor didn't even want to join at first, but…"

"You've been teaching the kids how to use weapons?" Rick asked in disbelief, looking straight back at her.

"Rick, I'm sorry but…"

Daryl stared at the corpses, thinking about this, remembering it. He had known about the library and Connor teaching the kids stuff. Maybe it made him question his blind faith a bit, because this sounded slightly shady now, when he put it in perspective. He then remembered all the things Connor had not told him right away, like the thing with the secret stash, the secret way out. He also remembered his friend's urge earlier today, when he had expressed his desire to kill those guys from the farm multiple times. It was true that he had never really agreed with his friend's fanaticism, the killings, his religious side. He'd never understood it, and now that Murphy was back, it had sometimes felt like it had gotten worse again.

_Just cos you got your bro back it don't mean yah gotta go back t'yer Saints crap…_

Just for a moment he took his time and actually really looked at the corpses, trying to blend his loyalty, friendship and love for his friend out.

 _Could Murphy have done it? Had they gone back to it now that they were reunited as 'the Saints'? What else was Connor keeping secret? Would he keep something like this secret from him in order to protect Murphy?_ _Yeah, of course Connor would._

He had always known that Murphy mattered more to his friend than he did. But then again. Connor had looked pretty desperate.  
And he'd been fighting so hard…No. Murphy had to be innocent. Secrets or not.

"He didn' do it" Daryl repeated, not just to himself but also to all the others. "And it ain't got nothing t'do with the kids or their weird immunity crap."

Michael snorted.

"How'd you know. Immunity with no side effects but creepiness factor sure sounds off t'me."

 _I know cos I've been fuckin one immune guy for the past two weeks and I'm doing alright, asshole,_ Daryl thought angrily but of course, he couldn't speak it out although that would seal the deal. He'd made his friend bleed, he'd kissed him and made him come more than once. There weren't that many more occasions to come in contact with _that_ many bodily 'infectious' fluids at the same time, no matter how disgusting it sounded. And he was fine.

"Cos 've been close with the guy's brother for more than a year and 'm doin fine. I was there when Connor got bit, got in contact with his blood when I nearly killed 'im and he even _pumped his blood inside me_ when I got shot and almost died. And here I am, ain't I" Daryl snarled, raising his arms to present himself.

"Bullshit" Wendy said with wide eyes, looking at Daryl a little closer. She then looked at Rick to get confirmation. The former cop just let out a tired sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to get a hold of the situation when he didn't even want to be put in a judging position like this.

"It's true" Carol spoke up then. "I didn't trust the whole thing at first, either. But he's been around Judith, everyone, and no one got infected or died because of it. Quite the opposite. Connor saved many lives."

"Yeah, so maybe Blondie's a good guy. Still don't solve the other kid problem. He got no alibi and blood on his shirt, and we don't know jackshit 'bout what he did before he came here. We only know that he was a serial killer before all this, one who got locked up in a max security prison. For a reason, see" Michael got right back to the topic, never giving in, pointing at the burned corpses of David and Karen.

"He got an alibi. We already told you. Guy came out lookin for Connor, found him near the church after he killed a buncha walkers, we sent him back" Daryl growled, although this was also a lie. He knew that Connor and Murphy weren't exactly the lying type when it came down to something like this, but without this lie, Murphy wouldn't have an alibi and make it worse. No one could prove that it was wrong, no one could prove that they were all lying. He _had_ to do something.

Michael still wouldn't let go. He snorted once again and folded his arms.

"Says the guy who looks like the accused and who's BFFs with the murdering weirdos."

Daryl clenched his fists, trying really hard not to lose it although this was _so_ frustrating. He hated Connor for not being here to handle this and talk for the twins, hated his own loyalty and love for the freak and ultimately, his loyalty to his brother as well. He didn't even want anything to do with this shit, knew that this was actually his chance to get rid of Murphy, to have a legitimate reason to make him leave. But in the end he knew that this wasn't right because it was unfair and wouldn't keep Connor from leaving as well. There never would be a Connor without Murphy again, so he _had_ to fight for the both of them. Whether he wanted to or not.

"Look, I get it. Y'all wanna make it easy. Blame someone for this crap here and make everyone calm down. But I'm telling yah. Ain't gonna help no one if we just start pointin fingers and throwing out innocent people. Cos I'm sure the killin won't stop til we find the true killer. I _swear_. He didn' do it. M's innocent" Daryl said, looking at Michael, then Wendy, then the others for a long while until he looked at the corpses for a moment, even starting his tracking and relying on his instincts for a moment. "Someone was trying t'be smart about this. I mean that's what I'd do if I wanted t'kill someone, I'd blame it on known serial killers, too. Ever heard 'bout copycats? That right detective?" Daryl then asked Rick, who'd been inspecting the crime scene for a while now.

"Right, you were a cop" Wendy remembered and Rick looked at the corpses a little while longer.

"They were shot after they got burned, maybe even while they were on fire" Rick said and pointed and the corpses. "The trail of blood doesn't match those wounds. The headshots didn't cause large pools of blood anymore. There wasn't much left after the burning and the primary injury. The trail tells me that they got killed inside the shed, probably with a stab to the head, I can't really make out the wound because of the burn. There's no brain matter or skull pieces inside the shed although there should be, if they really got shot and died from it."

"There's no reason for someone to shoot them when their brains were already injured after a stab" Wendy noted, very interested in the observation, taking a closer look at the corpses. Daryl nodded.

"Yeah, and I doubt emo kid could drag two bodies outta here like that. Straight line, no stoppin, see" he said, pointing at the blood trail. "Guy's shoulder's all messed up from the bite, can only lift his arm about yay high. He couldn't even carry too much of the trapping gear when we got back."

"I'd like some definite proof though. Ain't exactly keen on keeping our kids 'round some psycho murderer" Michael growled, still not really buying anything. Daryl rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff but decided not to say anything. He just looked at Rick, who still had his eyes fixed on the shed, the tracks and the corpses, obviously thinking it over.

"Milton took some blood samples. It should give us a definite answer about the infection. Daryl is right. Connor is sick, so the infection theory doesn't have much backing. Connor and Murphy are fraternal twins. Their physical make-up is similar. They're both immune and they both survived bites. They've been around other people without making them show symptoms before. Right now, the pigs and our food are the best lead we have."

"I'm gonna question him when he wakes up again. Get his clothes and ask Milton and Doctor Stevens to check the blood stains, see if it's really walker blood. You're right. Let's not start with the finger pointing" Rick said as he got back up and wiped his hands on his jeans.

Daryl nodded, folding his arms.

"We should assign extra watch shifts in front of the doors. Keep the exposed and vulnerable secure and protected" he suggested, looking around once more. "Should keep an eye out on everyone in case our real killer makes another appearance."

"We need to hold another council meeting and discuss the issue…"Hershel tried to say, but another string of rhythmic coughs suddenly interrupted all of them. A moment later Sasha suddenly appeared around the corner, leaning against the wall, still coughing, looking at them.

"I need to see Doctor Stevens."

* * *

Daryl really wanted to see Connor first, because he was worried sick. He was furious, he was mad at his friend for falling ill, just like that. Just last night they had been doing so _fine_. After the nightmare and after having truly talked about his past for the first time in his life, after entering the bar and drinking and joking some he had actually felt truly _happy_ again, for the first time after losing Merle. He'd felt happy, more relaxed, maybe even in fucking love. And now here he was. Everything was going to shit, just like that. Two people had been murdered, someone was trying to pin it on his friends.

And Connor was sick and Murphy was knocked out, people had been trying to leave, people were locked up and Woodbury was suddenly and slowly turning into what felt like a police-state.

**_Fuck._ **

He wanted to let go of his anger, the usual way, yell some at Connor, get into a fight with him only to let go with a simple fuck, except nothing of that was going to work anymore.

Because Connor was sick.

And if the thing with Murphy didn't work out and they decided to believe some random pessimistic fucker, the MacManus twins were going to leave, get thrown out, or more fucked up shit could be happening. And this was exactly the point, why he couldn't go to Connor first, why he couldn't yell at him first. There was too much to do, too much to handle, too much to get done.

He actually needed to talk to Murphy first. Tell him about the next plans. Let him in on the lie. Tell him that he was supposed to tell them that they had met up out there. Although it was not true. But if it was the only thing keeping the fucker in here, keep _Connor_ here, then he needed to tell this lie. He already hated this whole thing again, hated how, for some reason, he was always the one to fix and protect the MacManus twins when he couldn't _even stand them_ , although the truth was that he totally could. He hadn't even made his way all the way up the stairs when he could already hear him. Murphy, raging upstairs, yelling and kicking at the door, banging his fists against the wood.

"Ye can't lock me up in here, ye motherfuckers!" he shouted, cursing even worse than Connor when he was angry, making the door shake and rattle with each kick. People had listened to Daryl and brought Murphy to his apartment, like Connor had wanted and like he had offered, but there was someone sitting on the chair by the door, leafing through and old magazine as he 'kept watch'. He could see the key inside the lock, the younger MacManus had obviously been locked up for good. At least until now.

"Harry" Daryl greeting the man the moment he had reached the top of the stairs.  
The Woodburian raised his head in surprise to look at the hunter, only to let out an amused snort.

"You come here to shut this nutter up? God he's annoying."

"'m gonna kill ye, ye cocksuckin son of a bitch!" Murphy roared, whether it was in response to the comment or not, underlined by an especially hard kick to the door.

Daryl snorted, looking at the shaking door for a moment.

"You tellin me" he muttered because it was true. Murphy annoyed him just as much. "It's alright. 'He's off the hook for now. You go look after Gracie."

Harry narrowed his eyes a little, looking at Daryl, obviously not quite trusting him anymore. Because he was friends with and looked like the 'bad side'.

"You sure? The council say this?"

 _I'm part of the council, asswipe_ , Daryl thought but wouldn't speak it out. He just gave the other man _the glare_.  
Harry eventually gave in and closed the magazine with a sigh.

"Alright, can't hear one more word of this Irish gibberish anyway" he muttered and headed for the stairs, to go back to his daughter. Daryl watched the man walk down the stairs and leave. He then stayed where he was and listened to Murphy's raging for a moment longer, just for the fun of it. He then quickly turned the key around and immediately pushed the door open, making the wood connect with Murphy's face and making him stumble backwards because of the suddenness of it all.

Daryl tried not to grin.

"Oh, _sorry_ " he said without meaning it at all.

Murphy rubbed his forehead angrily, his face red with anger from all his yelling.  
A dark bruise had formed where Tyreese had hit him, and other than that the other man just looked like a complete mess.

"Where te fuck's Connor, did he fuckin tell 'em? I didn't fuckin do it, alright, they can't just…." Murphy immediately started babbling and shouting, completely beside himself because of all the previous accusations and now the whole locking him up thing. He was like a trapped animal and Daryl hated to admit it, but he kind of reminded him of himself because he was sure he would react the same way. Daryl carefully closed the door behind himself and now that Murphy mentioned Connor and he actually had the time to really process everything, it really hit the hunter. Connor was sick, _Jesus_. When he looked back at Murphy he was all serious.

"He got it."

"What'd ye mean?" Murphy asked with an angry frown, and when Daryl wouldn't answer him fast enough for his liking Murphy immediately lost it again.

"Te fuck do ye mean?" he shouted, approaching Daryl and grabbing him by his shirt. Anger but also fear and worry was showing in his eyes now. The hunter really wanted to snap at the guy for manhandling him like that, wanted to punch him in his face and tell him to stop being so fucking stupid, but right now he was too shocked to see a perfect image of himself, of everything he felt, because they were sitting in the same boat. The man who matter the most to them was sick.

"He got the flu 's what I man, jackass" Daryl snarled, but sounded defeated, if just a little bit, because he'd been forced to really speak out what the both of them feared.

For just a moment Murphy looked completely shocked, his rage over the murder thing completely forgotten.

"I need t'see 'im" he forced out and tried to walk past Daryl, but this time it was the hunter who grabbed him by his shirt to hold him back.

"Let me go!" Murphy yelled angrily, sounding exactly like Connor, acting exactly like Connor had less than an hour earlier, when it had been the other way round. It hurt Daryl to really see them like that again, as twin brothers who cared deeply for each other, hated that they were so alike and had something he couldn't have. But once again he couldn't do much about it because he identified so much with Murphy right now, because the younger MacManus voiced and showed everything _he_ felt. But he was the only one left out of the three of them, the only one to remain in control and keep them from mindlessly destroying themselves and everything around them because of their mad love and protectiveness of each other.

"No I ain't gonna let you go cos you gonna listen t'me now, you freak" Daryl snarled and looked Murphy straight in the eye, not only trying to dominate the other and making it clear that _he_ was going to see Connor first, but also to put him in his place. "Right now you got half the town riled up against yah, and you better not rile them up even more and get someone t'throw yah ass out or get yah killed. You don't get t'go anywhere near infected. Else they're just gonna get the wrong impression and throw yah out anyway."

"They can fuckin try me, cos I didn't fuckin do it!" Murphy immediately shouted and Daryl looked him right in the eye.

"Did you?" he asked, in all honesty, scanning his lookalike's face. Murphy look angry at first and seemed to be split seconds away from snapping again, but then he returned the favor and looked Daryl right in the eye as well.

"I swear."

Daryl looked at the younger MacManus a little while longer, the man who had a perfect copy of his best friend's eyes, although everything else looked like his own face. But it were those eyes and his entire presence that made Daryl believe him because he felt familiar, felt like an honest soul that could be trusted. Maybe even more than Connor.

"Fine" Daryl snarled and then walked away from Murphy, heading for the window to have a look outside. He could see more people heading for the block they kept the exposed in, the ones infected. The block Connor was in now. He swallowed hard, worrying about his friend, worrying about their entire town. More and more people were getting sick. It was getting out of hand. Everything was getting out of hand.

"I told 'em we saw yah at the church, I told 'em we met" he said then and looked back at Murphy, who raised an eyebrow at him. "So if anyone asks, you better fuckin say the same. Ain't gonna lie t'my people for nothin. We met at the church, leprechaun and I headed for the farm, you went back t'Woodbury. Cos of how it's always been, leprechaun didn't wanna let you join anything outside."

"That's a fuckin lie" Murphy muttered, sounding unsure.

"You got a better alibi, smartass? 'm just tryin t'save your ass, so don't go mother Teresa on me now" he muttered, walking around some more. "Rick got your clothes, Milton got your blood. Should be enough t'prove you're innocent."

"Why the fuck would you even care?" Murphy growled, angry because he didn't like that Daryl was right, angry because the other man was trying to tell him what to do. The hunter immediately gave him an angry glare but wouldn't say anything, although Murphy knew what the look meant anyway.

_Because if they make you leave or kill you, I'm gonna lose your brother, too._

Both didn't like it, but this was the one topic it always came down to , the one person that always mattered in the end. Connor. Doing right by him, keeping him safe.

"He really got it?" Murphy asked after a while, right after Daryl stopped looking at him and stared at the ground instead, chewing on his lips.

"Hmhm."

"Fuck" Murphy said, the knowledge really hitting him.

He even needed a moment to sit down. He rubbed his face, his aching forehead, and actually needed to let out a deep, frustrated and shaky sigh.

"'m gonna go see 'im" he said then and tried to head for the door once again, but Daryl wouldn't let him just like before.

"Yah ain't gonna do shit, I just told you. Ain't no one wanna see you around the infected. You had a seizure after Tyreese knocked yah out cold, gave your bro a damn near heart attack. Don't make it worse for 'im. He got it and he don't wanna infect yah and he wants you t'stay the fuck away and be safe. You want 'im t'get better soon you better stop givin 'im goddamn heart attacks every two seconds and stop getting yourself int'trouble like a fuckin three year old."

"Fuck ye, that disease fuckin kills people, do ye really think 'm just gonna sit on me arse all day, wait fer people ta judge me and let my brother cough his fuckin lungs out? Fuck yer keepin people safe bullshit, I gotta help 'im, I just got him back fer fuck's sake!"

Daryl was literally split seconds away from lashing out on Murphy and knocking him out again because he really was so goddamn annoying with his stubbornness. The hunter even let out an angry frustrated growl that hardly masked his frustration and anger, but in the end he managed somehow. He just tried to replay the image of seeing the door connect with the fucker's face a couple of minutes earlier.

"And that's exactly the reason why yah gotta stop this bullshit, good lord, am I really the only zen round here? _Fuck_ , you Irish guys are annoying!" he roared, but all he did was shove Murphy. "I didn't talk til I was blue in the face tryin t'get yah on this mission for nothin!"

Murphy frowned angrily.

"Wha?"

"Yeah, you think you gonna achieve shit by going over there and holdin yah bro's hand like a sissy, crying and all that bullshit? No, you're gonna come with us and get the meds they need. Be helpful for once and prove t'people that yah ain't done nothin wrong and just wanna help. They didn' even wanna let yah at first but I convinced them, so you better not fuck this up, you fuckin cripple!"

Murphy fell silent, actually quite surprised by the fact that Daryl had done so much for him, had talked to people and tried to solve this even without Connor, when he didn't need to do all this for them, when they couldn't even stand each other. But here he was, telling him how things were going to happen, trying to keep him safe in the end, maybe even secretly being protective of him although none of the two would ever admit to that.

Daryl just gave the younger MacManus that angry, hateful glare and started walking a bit, obviously trying to get rid of the nervous, violent energy that told him to just punch him right in the face. In the end Daryl managed though, still glaring at Murphy, somehow keeping himself under control if only just for his sick friend and the silent promise to keep Murphy save for him.

"We're gonna head for this veterinary college in a bit. Too many people came down with this sickness in less than 24 hours. Connor, Glenn, Sasha, a bunch of others are slowly showing symptoms. More people than we can treat with the stuff we got right now. We go out, find the stuff with the help of your immunity crap, get it, bring it right back. Done. As simple as that. Everyone just needs t'fuckin chill."

Murphy grumbled something, obviously still stubborn but silently giving in as he chewed on his lips.  
He looked at Daryl like that, once again seeming that much younger and almost childish.

"What 'bout Conn?" he mumbled and Daryl quickly looked away.

"He's gonn' make it" he forced out, although the truth was that he wasn't too sure.  
He was worried sick. He had seen all the bodies, had seen Patrick. And he remembered what Connor had told him.

 _Patrick told me there was no more running water, so I took a bucket upstairs ta get washed up, did the whole thing, brushed my teeth, washed my face with it, te same water he probably coughed right fuckin into._ Bloody Patrick. _The trails are from the internal lung pressure building up inside the body, like if you shake a soda can and pop the top. Just imagine your eyes, ears, nose and throat are the top_. _Coughing, high fever, anemia, pleurisy, hypoglycemia. It might be pneumococcal…I think we're dealing with a very aggressive flu strain here._ _Choked to death on his own blood._

He'd seen Connor like that once. Bloody, coughing up blood, actually screaming in pain, pretty much dying. It had been the most horrible night in his life.  
He didn't want it to repeat itself. But now Connor was sick and…

"What if he fuckin doesn't? I gotta be there fer 'im in case he…" Murphy whined, worry showing in his voice, speaking out what Daryl was actually thinking.  
The younger MacManus twin was never ashamed to show emotion, worry and weakness.

"He ain't gonna make it if yah keep naggin n'cryin and doin absolutely nothin. Rick and the others gonna come around in a moment and gonna ask yah some questions. As soon as you're done, you move your ass down there and meet us at the car so we can get rollin and get the meds. We're gonna leave as soon as we can" Daryl snarled angrily and wouldn't look at Murphy anymore, leaving him to his worries and fear, leaving the room and closing the door behind himself so he could keep Murphy from seeing his own pain and worry.

The moment he was outside though he actually allowed himself to take a moment, leaned his head against the closed door and stared up at the ceiling, swallowing hard, wondering the same thing.

_What if Connor doesn't make it this time?_

He'd been too lucky until now. Surviving two bites, a war, escaping a hospital full of crazies, finding his brother again, finding him alive. The guy had recovered from a depression, gotten his life back and then some, maybe even had his first real relationship ever, the past couple of days had been all about sunshine and letting go. Sooner or later his luck had to run out, right? _What if this was it?_

He swallowed hard and banged his head against the door once, even growling in frustration, clenching his fists.

No.

Although it had been a year now since he'd first made that statement, it still applied.

_You ain't dyin as long as I'm around._

Connor wasn't going nowhere as long as _he_ was there with him. The guy simply wasn't _allowed_ to go, didn't have his permission. He was gonna sort this out.

* * *

Daryl made his way up the stairs, his mouth covered with a bandana, to try and keep the infection outside. He knew it was dangerous to come in here. He could hear countless people cough and mutter, half delirious, in pain, scared. They had placed serious cases like Connor, Sasha and Glenn who had already shown all the symptoms, up at the top-level of this building, to make sure that should anyone of them turn and break out somehow they weren't gonna cut off the exit for the others like last time.

All of them were supposed to be locked in in order to protect them from possible sudden turns, so that another outbreak like this morning couldn't possibly happen. Which was exactly the reason why Daryl was so surprised to see Connor there, sitting on the top flight of stairs, leaned against the wall with his cheek pressed to the cool surface, gun in his hand.

His condition had gotten rapidly worse in just such a short time, ever since allowed himself to give in a collapse. Especially when he had his guard down like that it was really showing. Now he _really_ looked sick, all pale and sweaty, shivering and coughing his lungs out. Daryl was even more paralyzed to see that there were some droplets blood escaping his mouth every couple of coughs, a sight that made him lose his mind and clench his fists.

He started walking up the stairs faster with an angry look on his face.

"The fuck you doin out here, how'd you get outside?!" he snapped angrily, immediately trying to grab Connor by his arm to pull him up and get him to move back to bed. But Connor moved out of his reach and turned his head to the side, not only to keep it pressed to the cool surface, but also to not cough Daryl in the face.

"'m fuckin fine" he gasped, longing for air because it was already pretty hard to breathe. He really sounded like he was having a serious cold by now. But then he was giving Daryl a weak smile, still so full of himself, faking content and happiness, even now.

"I broke outta max security prison, remember. Wooden door's hardly a challenge fer me."

Daryl just stood in front of his friend, glaring down at him, only seconds away from losing it.  
He was incredibly tense and angry and Connor knew it, saw it, felt it. He coughed once more and then swallowed hard, looking away.

"I gotta keep watch in case that murdering motherfucker turns up again and tries ta pin it ta me and my brother" he muttered then and Daryl let out an angry huff.

"Man I wanna find 'em, too. Put a bolt in 'em for what they did. But just think 'bout it. These people right here? They're cut off. Ain't no way anyone's getting in and out without a whole bunch of people seeing them. There ain't no reason for yah t'be out here. So get yah ass back t'bed."

"There sure is a fuckin reason fer me ta be here, cos ye know what I see? I'm locked up in here with all these sick people. And some motherfucker copied _my_ pattern ta kill and burn sick people. And te moment this repeats itself in here, they're gonna blame me fer fuckin it."

"Just listen t'yerself man, you should rest. The fever makes yah a bit…"

"It's got nothing ta do with me bein fuckin sick. 'm not paranoid. I'm telling ye" Connor growled and then narrowed his eyes with an angry look on his face, staring down the stairs at nothing in particular.

"'s gotta be dat Terry cat. Remember a couple a nights ago when he threatened me? Guy lost his little brother because 'a me. Didn't make it a secret that he hates me fer it. Don't ye think it was pretty fuckin convenient fer him ta start inviting Murph ta help with te food? Although he had better friends who could've helped? Outta all people, he tried ta earn me brother's trust, ta get him ta be around stuff that's around everyone, that could infect people. 'm sure he heard Murph out, tried ta see how he ticks. And now someone starts killing people in our fashion ta plant it on Murph ta get people ta throw him out or worse. He thinks he's bein fuckin smart about this, brother fer brother and shit. But oho fuckin no, he's fuckin with te wrong guy. 'm gonna catch him red handed and 'm gonna drop te motherfucker" Connor said, grabbing his gun tighter and raising it to stress the fact.

Since he'd been talking that much he suddenly started coughing once more, the whole thing sounding dangerous, painful. It made Daryl's guts twist and turn. He tried really hard to stay calm, to get his friend to calm down and think, as well. He didn't want anyone to start blaming anyone if they didn't have definite proof, because he knew how seriously wrong this whole thing could turn out. Because if Connor seriously murdered someone in his feverish paranoid craze and almost insane protectiveness of his brother and that murdered someone turned out to be innocent, then there really was no way back, no way to protect them, no way to keep them here and stop Woodbury from starting a freaking witch hunt.

If Connor was right about one thing then it was that the _real_ killer was playing smart with his psycho mind games. There were a few people from Woodbury who couldn't stand Connor or the whole prison group even now, months after the prison shootout. They could never really be one hundred percent sure. Especially not now when everything was so chaotic anyway. So Daryl struggled hard and tried to stay calm, hoping to get his friend back inside his temporary bed in the meantime and lock him up for good before he managed to hurt anyone.

"Yeah, I get it. You wanna get the murderin asshole and trust me, if anyone finds the guy 'm gonna had it over t'yah _personally_ and we're gonna take care of the sick fuck _._ But right now? Stayin on guard ain't gonna do you no good. 's just gonna fuck you over even more. Let Rick and the others handle that stuff, _you got it_ , man. This ain't gonna be no picnic…"

"'s just a fuckin cold, Daryl" Connor said but then suddenly started coughing again, heavily, deeply and throaty, until yet another couple of droplets of blood ran down his clenched, tattooed fist, and this was when the hunter finally lost it. The stubbornness, the never-ending coughing, the blood. He couldn't take it anymore.

"People are dying because of this shit!" Daryl yelled, furious, even kicking Connor's leg hard to force him to look at him. The hunter then started moving left to right on the stair, once again trying to keep calm but seeing the blood, seeing his friend like that just made it impossible for him to keep it in any longer.

"I mean how fuckin stupid are yah t'drink that shit! He was coughin, why you even go near the fucker, why's it always gotta be you why didn't you just fuckin stay with me?! If you hadn't used the damn water there wouldn't be no reason for yah t'stay locked in here!" he exploded, yelling at Connor, losing it just like any other time the Irishman had managed to get himself hurt or in danger.

"And this ain't even the first time you got yourself into a mess like this, every time I don't watch your stupid ass for five minutes you pull shit like that ' _Oh by the way, I got infected with this and that deadly disease, no biggie, I gotta be all heroic about this cos I saw it in a movie_ '. This is _bullshit_! Sometimes I could just bash your fuckin skull in because you're so godamn stupid you… "

"Well, certainly no need ta speed things up cos this fuckin flu already does te fuckin killing part, alright?!" Connor snapped back, just as angry because he was being yelled at like that. But he couldn't keep shouting because his throat hurt so much, because he felt the constant need to cough and get rid of what felt like slimy fluid that seemed to clock up his lungs more and more.

"Don't fuckin say that, you piece of shit!" Daryl yelled back.

"Alright!"

They fell quiet after that, as Connor closed his eyes for a moment to rest and lean his head against the wall again.  
Daryl watched him for a moment, worried sick, scared, and then let out a tired, exhausted sigh, only to try and sit down beside Connor on the top stair.

"Ye shouldn' be in here. Everyone's comin down with this shit, I don' wanna see ye get thrown in here as well, ye should leave" the Irishman mumbled tiredly.

"I fucked you yesterday, you didn' give me the clap so far so you ain't gonna give me shit today."

Although he didn't want to, Connor still let out a gentle chuckle only to start coughing yet again.

"Fuck.." he moaned in frustration and then finally looked at Daryl, trying to hold his breath somehow.

"How's Murph, he okay?"

"Partyin up there cos you finally stop bein up his ass 'bout every tiny little thing."

"Har-fuckin-har."

Daryl smirked a bit.

"No, ain't doin too hot. Head's doin okay, but he didn' take the news too god. He wanted t'come see yah."

"Fuck, no" Connor muttered and looked away again, taking some time to catch breath and then searched his pockets for a Kleenex because his nose was running and all clogged with snot. "Came down with every fuckin disease tagether, ever since we was born. Pneumonia, colds, injuries, even te fuckin bites and immunity had ta be te fuckin same with te two of us. There's no way he's gonna catch that shit now, too."

"I got his ass covered" Daryl muttered, although he hated to admit that. But it made Connor smile, so maybe that wasn't too bad.

"I know."

It was quiet for a while as they only listened to the heavy coughing all around them.

"He really didn' do it" Connor said after a while and Daryl looked at him. "I know Murph. I'd know and _feel_ it if he did something like this. We don' kill innocent people. Certainly not women. Karen was a good gal."

"Rick'n the others are gonna figure it out. Town's like a ghost town right now anyway, shouldn' be too hard t'find traces of the real killer."

Connor started coughing again and this time Daryl allowed himself to shakily reach out for him, place a hand on his friend's back to rub it somehow, although it was clumsy and awkward. But it was the truth, he worried and cared deeply.

"Promise me ye look after Murph while 'm…y'know. In death row" Connor muttered and then started a mixture of chuckling and coughing.

"You ain't dyin, dumbass" the hunter snarled.

"I fuckin know, but there's a fuckin asshole with a agenda against me'n Murph out there, so…"

"Good lord you guys are a buncha pussies" Daryl growled and let go of Connor, remembering the other promise.

 _Should this disease really get me this time… Keep lookin after Connor fer me. Don' leave him alone._  
Promise me ye look after Murph while 'm…y'know. In death row

The Irishman just gave him his angry, unyielding glare, and when there were another bunch of coughs, Daryl finally gave in with an eye roll.

"Fine. But there ain't no reason for me t'do nothing cos we're gonna get yah some medicine and y'all gonna be out here in no time" he grumbled and Connor frowned a little.

"Medicine?"

Daryl nodded, chewing on his lips, looking at Connor with a worried frown because _damn_ , his friend really didn't look and sound good.

"Hmhm. Too many people came down with it in just one day. You got it, then Sasha, now Glenn. Gets worse every time and we don't have enough antibiotics t'treat it. Hershel told us 'bout this veterinary college in Fort Valley, State university. Said people usually don't think they'd find stuff there, but it's the same we need. We're gonna head out in a bit, 's why I came in here."

Connor frowned a little.

"Fort.." another coughing fit interrupted him, right then and there and while he automatically tried to move away from his friend, Daryl immediately tried to move closer to hold him steady. But Connor somewhat managed to fight him off and just looked away to not cough him in the face.

"Fort Valley? Isn' dat like 50 miles away?" he managed to force out then.

"Yeah" Daryl muttered, not really liking it, too.

"But y'know how it is. We've been through every farmhouse and building 'round here. And then some. Even the Governor took most of it before we even got here. But we gotta find some. Else the symptoms gonna keep killin people."

Connor chuckled miserably, reaching for his sweaty forehead, rubbing it.

"Aye, no shit."

"Yah gonna be alright" Daryl said quietly, just watching his friend and then finally reaching out for him once again, not giving a shit about the possible risks. But he was freaked out, wanted his friend to know, wanted to be close to him because he knew how quickly things could spiral out of control, because he knew how he'd felt the last time he'd thought he'd lost Connor to a deadly disease. Before it got too cheesy though and the exact moment he thought about girly shit like taking the other man's hand to squeeze it, he immediately clenched his hands to tight fists and looked away, withdrawing before it came to any physical contact.

"'m gonna take yah bro with me."

"What?!" Connor asked in surprise and shock, but Daryl just nodded.

"He can reach stuff that'd normally be off limits if there's too many walkers. Besides, take it that way if you gotta: I can keep an eye on the creep and this way, he's away from this whole infected town and killer freak who can't stand 'im. People don't want him 'round right now anyway and maybe this way he can show that he just wanna help."

"I don't like this shit" Connor growled angrily, giving in to another heavy coughing fit but trying hard to keep it in to show how uncomfortable the whole idea made him feel. Daryl just gave him an angry frown and raised an eyebrow.

"You rather let 'im hang back with Tyreese and psycho killer freak in a town where no one's really backing his ass cos he's the newbie around town? We can't take Tyreese, can't take Rick cos he's gotta stay here and look after Carl'n lil asskicker. Michonne, Andrea'n Mike are off to another location, Hershel's too old and Beth'n Maggie are trying to keep watch with a few others. So we ain't exactly got many people left. All we got is your bro, maybe Wendy."

Connor pressed his lips together and swallowed, obviously not liking the whole thing, but he seemed to get it.  
Daryl let out a gentle sigh and then got back up with a grunt, offering his friend a hand.

"C'mon. Let's getcha back t'yah room. Ain't no reason for yah t'be out here. Harry'n Mike got it covered out there."

Connor snorted.

"Yer terrible at hittin on me and getting me back t'bed."

Daryl let out an unwanted snort as well but then got serious again.

"Shut up" he muttered and helped Connor up who reluctantly obeyed, but not without keeping his eyes fixed on the stairs, as if he was still trying to make sure no killer was going to turn up simply because he wasn't watching everything like a hawk.

Maybe Daryl shoved him on the bed a bit rougher than necessary. He still needed to let go of his anger and frustration, still needed to let his friend know how angry he was with him for getting sick. The other part of him simply did it to mask the other thoughts that came to his mind, all the things he actually really wanted to do. Take care of his friend, make sure he was right, maybe even fuss over him like a girl, keep holding his hand like the sissy he had accused Murphy of being earlier.

Connor let out an angry grunt but then just adjusted to the new position, because he didn't exactly get the chance to complain or do much because he was still coughing, because he still felt like shit and it just seemed to get worse and worse. Everything was spinning because of the sudden change of position that he found himself in, and when he managed to turn on his back he actually needed to shield his eyes for a moment, letting out a tired groan, swallowing multiple times, trying to slick his burning throat up a bit.

"Fuck, I feel like shit" he mumbled and then immediately tried to get up again. "I should…keep movin and plan, else 'm gonna go fuckin…"

"You're gonna stay right here, dumbass" Daryl growled, while roughly pulling the bed covers out from under Connor's ass to put them on top of him (actually throwing it on top of him, _fuck he was terrible at this, what did people do when someone got sick? His parents or brother had never taken care of him whenever he'd caught a cold or something_ ) "I see you back out there I ain't gonna wait for no flu to kill your annoying Irish ass. 'm gonna stomp it myself."

Although Connor was still coughing and felt like shit he still had to smile at that.

"Aren'tche the sweet lass. Always caring about me like dat, really warms me cockles" he said with a smirk and reached out for Daryl's clenched fist to squeeze it affectionately, but he was grinning and making it obvious that he was exaggerating. But even with all this stupid joking around and trying to play it tough and cool Daryl could still see that his friend was actually pretty far from feeling like joking. He knew the act too well. Connor was just playing it to keep him from losing it even more.

And maybe Daryl loosened the fist for a moment to let Connor hold and squeeze. Maybe he held on to his friend just as much, holding the hand so tight that it hurt the other, because he didn't want to let go, didn't want to go, because Murphy had said it, and he feared that.

_What if he fuckin doesn't make it? I gotta be there fer 'im in case he…_

Maybe he just wanted to fuck everything, be open about everything, how he truly felt and what he truly thought right now. Maybe he just wanted to stay, despite the danger, maybe he wanted the others to be strong and get shit done all the time so he could take care of his friend and just be with him because _this_ had become his greatest fear.

Every single time he had left Connor to get something done, be it his fighting the herd back at the farm or going back for Merle. Them splitting up had never ended well. But they couldn't have –that- much bad luck, could they? That was just stupid. Cliché. Only happened in bad movies. No. He _had_ to go out there. He had to get the medicine with the few people who weren't sick yet, in order to stop the flu from spreading. He needed to get the stuff to help his friend, to make him feel better, to get everything back to normal again.

Because if he stayed here and fell sick, too, everything was just going to spiral out of control. Rick couldn't do much. Not anymore. Tyreese was a lost case right now. No one trusted Murphy. Glenn and Sasha had fallen sick. Hershel was old. Carol wanted and needed to look after the children. Sure, there were Maggie. Michonne. Andrea. The couple of people from Woodbury who they trusted. But that wasn't enough. Every single fighter and runner counted and was needed.

So he let go of his friend's hand and just looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Gonna be back tomo. You better not bite the dust while we're gone.'m gonna kill yah if yah die cos of some stupid flu."  
 _Please don't die. You matter too much to me._

Connor just snorted and cleared his throat after it, watching his friend head for the door.

"Eh Daryl" he called after him right then and there, making his friend stop and turn around to look at him.

"Ye better watch me brother's ass or _yer_ gonna kick the bucket."

The hunter huffed and tried to hide the fact that he was disappointed his friend was only talking about Murphy once again.

"Try me" he just muttered and then tried to leave once more, but Connor called out yet again.

"And Daryl."

"What is it now, good lord. Ain't gonna be waitin around forever."

"You watch yer ass, too. I'm gonna kill ye if ye die out there" Connor said right back, smirking.  
 _You matter a lot, too._

The hunter just let out a little growl but somehow managed to give a small nod, acknowledging their secret code and what everything really meant. He then quickly left the room to hide the fact that these words meant so much more to him than he'd shown, to hide that he was smiling. For a moment Connor smiled as well, knowing that his friend's reaction meant more than it had looked like, understanding the secret code as well. He just looked at the wings on his back until Daryl closed the door shut behind him.

Just then Connor finally allowed himself to stop the act and turn on his side, letting out the string of the far more dangerous coughs he'd kept inside until now, the bits of blood and slime he'd continuously swallowed back down to hide them from his friend, his breathing going raspy and shallow.

* * *

He didn't get to spend that much time on his own, didn't even get the chance to rest or fall asleep. Only about five minutes had passed when he heard the key rattle, then the door suddenly opened yet again, and for a moment Connor really suspected that maybe this was Murphy, his stubborn brother breaking the rules and promises once again, sneaking out and back inside to be with him.

_He didn' take the news too god. He wanted t'come see yah._

Yeah, this sounded exactly like Murphy. Impatient, ruled by his temper and emotions, fucking every rule just to be with him. Just like back when they'd been kids and their Ma had been so eager to keep them apart and let them sleep in different rooms the moment one of them got sick, just like after his spectacular jump off the roof when he'd been in hospital with those doctor's taking care of the cuffs and his head, when they had tried to make Murphy stay outside only to give in when he'd thrown a fit out there.

It wasn't like he could blame him, he wanted to see him, too. So he turned around tried hard to fight the smile, because seeing either Murphy or Daryl always made him smile. But he wasn't allowed to smile because Murphy needed to understand that this was wrong. He turned around and fought the smile, but the moment he saw his 'visitor' he had no reason to smile anyway.

Terry.

Terry was there, entering his room, closing the door shut behind himself, looking at Connor.  
The Irishman immediately tensed, forcing himself not to cough, not to show any weakness, slowly trying to reach for his gun.

The other man was wearing some sort of mask just like anyone else so he couldn't really see it, but the shape of his eyes and the little wrinkles there told Connor that maybe Terry was smiling under the mask.

"Te fuck do ye want" the Irishman said after a moment, sitting up a bit, glaring at the other man.

His number one suspect.

Terry kept looking at him for a moment longer and Connor used the opportunity to discretely scan the rest of his body.  
Hands, clothes, and bulges that could tell him about a possible weapon.

 _I hope you find your brother dead out there!  
_ _You._ _Got your brother back. And then you took my brother. When_ _he_ _was trying to save_ _your_ _ass. You got all yah want, paddy. Brother. Your life, my town..  
This is __our_ _town. This was our town, before you and your little prison crew destroyed everything. Don't give me your nice guy act, cos I ain't buying it. Never did. I see right through your little gang, right through_ _you_ _. If it weren't for you_ _none_ _of our people would've died. Certainly not Taylor. You ever notice the division of labor here? Your boss stays here picking flowers while all of our decent people from Woodbury,_ _like my brother by the way_ _, get sent out on death missions_.

"Look. I know you and I ain't exactly on good terms, Irish, not anymore after…" Terry said then, shifting a bit, still looking at Connor, who glared back at him with hawk eyes.

"Aye. No shit."

Terry let out an angry huff.

"If someone's gotta have a reason t'be pissed of at someone, it's gotta be me so don't give me that lookin down on me shit now and listen, asshole" he immediately said, offended by Connor's reaction. He then slowly came closer, still looking at the Irishman like that. There was another long pause, the tension rising between them, as Connor determinedly tried to fight another coughing fit. Terry came uncomfortably close to the bed and just kept _staring_ until he finally let out a gentle sigh.

"For whatever the fuck it's worth, I just came here t'tell yah that I too think your bro's innocent. And if yah need someone t'put in a good word for him in front of the others, 'm willin t'help out."

Connor just stared at the man, completely dumbfounded, eyebrows raised in disbelief, blinking.

"What?" he managed to ask and a short cough just forced its way out with the word, a cough that he quickly tried to mask.

No weaknesses.

Terry abruptly raised both his hands in the air and Connor flinched a bit, instinctively reaching for his weapon, but the other man just showed both his bare hands as if to signal defeat.

"I know, I know. You better not drift off into fantasy world cos of this, though, cos I sure as hell ain't doing shit for _you_ murdering asshole, but hey, I like your lil' bro. He's a good kid, helped me with the food, getting people fed, really got a heart of gold that one, ain't he?" Terry said and suddenly started chuckling. "I just don't want anymore brothers t'get lost after..after Taylor. That's not what he'd want. So… I just wanna help the kid. I know he didn' do it. And if yah want, I can tell the others 'bout my experiences with good ol' Murph."

"You don' fuckin call him Murph" Connor snarled, giving Terry an ice-cold glare. Terry raised an eyebrow and cocked his head a little, shrugging and showing defeat once more. "Alright, alright, I take it, I take it. Just relax, Irish" Terry said, and although the Irishman couldn't see his mouth he could still tell that he was grinning.

"I mean get it, you're stressed, freaked out. It's hard to see things straight in situations like that. It's really scary, thinking about what _could_ happen if these people out there threw your own little brother out and left him to die. I know what that feels like, constantly fearing for your little brother's life, maybe losing him from one second to the next, just like that…no chance to say goodbye, it just..happens _so fast_ , right? Shit hits the fan.. It's a terrible world. Just wanted t'let you know. I'm sorry about what happened to your brother today. It was kinda tragic. But I'm willing to help out if it helps. Ain't gonna let history repeat itself. I'm gonna make sure."

"You mother..." Connor said and tried to keep talking, paling as he remembered that Terry was throwing the exact words he'd told him right back at him. He saw right through the other man, his fake speech and fake act, it made his blood boil and he immediately tried to get off the bed to kill the motherfucker because he knew it now. Just _knew_ it.

"Ah ah ah, now that's not how you treat such a giving soul, right? I mean here I am, willing to help your bro and tell everyone what a fantastic meatpacker he is, escort him on the med trip to make sure he doesn't get gutted and killed because of someone else's fuck up during a scouting mission…."

"I'M GONNA FUCKIN KILL YE IF YE…" Connor exploded but ended up coughing his lungs out once again, but still ignoring the illness. He was furious because he finally really understood the message, what Terry was trying to say. The wrath filled his aching limbs and made him jump off the bed, tripping and fighting his way out of the covers as he tried to launch himself at the man who had just openly threatened Murphy's life, but Terry was faster, too agile, quickly dodging the attack and rushing out of the room, closing the door shut, locking it with the key.

"I'M GONNA RIP YER LUNGS OUT! MURPH!" Connor yelled, finally and somehow managing to get out of bed and throwing himself at the door, but he wasn't the only one begging to be led out of this hell, he wasn't the only one banging on the door because another person had died and turned somewhere downstairs, launching themselves just as much against the wooden door, banging on it with undead fists, scratching, moaning, trying to get out.

* * *

They were standing close to the black car, the fastest one they had. Daryl was busy working on it, making sure it had enough oil, enough fuel, enough air in the tires, making sure everything was alright so they could get to the college as fast as possible. He also did the whole thing to keep himself busy, to stop himself from worrying about Connor.

He looked up every now and then to check on Murphy, who was leaning against the side of the car, chewing on his fingernails, staring up at the apartment building they used to keep the infected in, the building Connor was in. And when Murphy wasn't looking at the windows he was having a slightly nervous and angry look around because everyone was staring at him, some eyeing him curiously, others giving him hostile, judging looks.

They had managed to get Wendy on the team as well, although she didn't seem to be too comfortable with the whole thing either.  
She'd been watching Murphy for a while as well until she finally approached Daryl with folded arms, still looking at the hunter's lookalike.

"Do you think this is a good idea? I think we should keep him locked up until we're sure we…"

Daryl let out an angry huff and got up a little as he took a closer look at the oil dipstick.

"You're the one who thought that raiding strangers could be friendlies. And I remember you sayin we need more people for scoutin groups after losin Taylor and Barry's scoutin crew. So here we go."

"I know, but that was before…" she muttered, discomfort obvious in her voice.

"I didn' fockin do it, lady" Murphy growled from the other side of the car, not looking at them, but still looking angry, sounding tired.

"And that's why we're gonna take Emo kid with us. He can help us, help the others. Give 'im a chance t'prove himself."

"Or kill us…" Wendy mumbled and made Murphy turn around to glare at her, looking angry yet again.

"Boo-fuckin-hoo!" he snarled and then just got inside the car, obviously fed up with the whole thing.

"You got room for one more?" they suddenly heard someone say and turned around before they got to say something regarding the Murphy topic. Terry was heading for them, looking inside the car to greet Murphy who just scowled, put his foot on the dashboard and pressed his fist to his mouth, staring up at the building with the sick instead.

Terry walked past the car and headed for Daryl, who eyed him skeptically.

"Thank god, I thought I had to be on my own on this one" Wendy exclaimed and immediately looked a little more relaxed. Daryl almost wanted to huff and tell her that it wasn't like he was dying to get to work with her, either, that he'd rather work with his people and not them, but he decided not to say anything. Maybe it did Murphy good to keep Woodburians with them. To show _them_ , the pessimists and sceptics, the truth.

Wendy wasn't the problem though. He just stared at Terry for a moment, eyeing him head to toe, remembering Connor's words, the history, everything that had happened during the past week.

_Taylor, Terry's brother. Lying on the floor with the walker on top of him, tearing at his guts and eating away._   
_Taylor, still alive, whimpering his way through this torture, half dead, struggling and utterly insane._   
_Connor, appearing out of nowhere, by the shelf. "'m sorry, buddy." His hand on Taylor's eyes, shutting them.  
The gun on Taylor's forehead, the shot._

_I hope you find your brother dead out there!_   
_He's real fuckin mad at me, man. I don' fuckin get it.  
's gotta be dat Terry cat. Remember a couple a nights ago when he threatened me? Guy lost his little brother because 'a me. Didn't make it a secret that he hates me fer it. Don't ye think it was pretty fuckin convenient fer him ta start inviting Murph ta help with te food? Although he had better friends who could've helped? Outta all people, he tried ta earn me brother's trust, ta get him ta be around stuff that's around everyone, that could infect people. 'm sure he heard Murph out, tried ta see how he ticks. And now someone starts killing people in our fashion ta plant it on Murph ta get people ta throw him out or worse. He thinks he's bein fuckin smart about this, brother fer brother and shit._

Daryl lowered the front lid of the car and stared at waiting Murphy for a moment, who was just sitting in the passenger seat, brooding, staring up at the windows of the buildings where they kept his brother. The hunter then looked at Terry again, who was patiently waiting for an answer to his question, telling him that the council thought it would be a good idea, too.

Maybe this wasn't just about the council or trying to make Wendy feel better to shut her up with her finger pointing and blaming the younger MacManus. Maybe he could use it as a _test_. To get the fucker away from Connor in case he really was the black sheep, to test if his friend's suspicion was true or if it was just another crazy paranoid pipe dream of his.

"Sure. Hop right in" he said, slamming the front lid shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same as ever, I would love to hear your thoughts in a comment, or if you don't feel like saying anything but liked the chapter/fic anyway, it would be cool if you could leave kuddos! Feedback is what keeps me going and what makes me smile!


	24. Truth And Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kuddos, old reviewers and new ones alike. It's much fun to see how you're really diving into this story and actually find it suspenseful and intense. Makes me happy! I'm sad to say that there is no Connaryl in this chapter, only tiny hints of it, but I can't say it enough: you're gonna get much more Connaryl in later chapters. I promise. Sexay times (to answer a question: yes, they're gonna do the real deal eventually, can't wait to write it), usual Connaryl bickering, Connaryl lovin and all.
> 
> But still. one plot point at a time. Which is giving me some time to focus on some more Darphy for now. Their relationship is growing on me. But once again, don't worry. It won't replace the epic OTP Connaryl relationship. Never ever. Just like I said. Connaryl five-ever.
> 
> I hope I do not disappoint with this chapter and how I handled the conflict!  
> More craziness in the next chapter =) Haha. We're slowly getting close to the midseason finale stuff!

Daryl looked in the rearview mirror from time to time, fixing his eyes on Terry who was either looking outside the window or staring at Murphy. The Irishman was sitting next to the hunter, in the passenger seat, right foot rested on the dashboard, chewing on his fingernails as he watched the trees pass by.

Murphy hadn't said a single word every since they had left Woodbury to head for Fort Valley, the veterinarian college there. The younger MacManus looked upset and worried, and Daryl couldn't exactly blame his lookalike. He pretty much felt the same because he was still worried about Connor, whenever he remembered how his friend had looked like back there. Pale, sick, sweaty, exhausted. Infected with a disease that had killed and turned people.

Daryl pressed his lips together for a while and then started chewing on his lower lip, fixing his eyes on the road again and occasionally driving the car around a stumbling corpse that was trying to pass the street.

"Your bro's gon make it" the hunter said then, finally deciding the break the silence and cheer Murphy up. In the end he didn't just do it to please the Irishman but also to calm himself down. Murphy just huffed but wouldn't say anything. The first big difference between him and his brother.

The younger twin could be less sociable and talkative when he wanted, giving in to his moodiness and letting everyone see how he felt without putting up an act. Daryl looked at him once more, trying to get a reaction somehow because he wasn't exactly used to this.

"He's a tough son of a bitch. Had worse. If you weirdo can survive a headshot then your weirdo bro can survive a damn cold."

"Cold tha makes people chew on their fuckin intestines" Murphy mumbled angrily as he kept chewing on his thumbnail.

"Don't worry, Irish. He didn't look too bad when I talked t'him" Terry suddenly said from behind them, which made Daryl look in the rearview mirror so he could glare at the man.

_'s gotta be dat Terry cat. Remember a couple a nights ago when he threatened me?  
Guy lost his little brother because 'a me. Didn't make it a secret that he hates me fer it._

" _You_ talked t'him?" he muttered, his possessivenes of Connor immediatly showing as he just glared at Terry, who looked back at him.

"Yeah. Ain't making it a big secret that I can't exactly stand that asshole…"

"Eh!" Murphy said angrily but Terry kept talking.

"But hey, since we're already talking about it…I just let the guy know that I think you're innocent, Irish."

Murphy looked in the rearview mirror at the mention of this as well, just like Daryl, who frowned a little.  
Wendy snorted and shook her head.

"Not you, too."

"I'm just saying, lady. Kid couldn't even lift the torso of a deer when we worked together…"

"I fuckin..!" Murphy tried to throw in but Daryl punched him in his side to shut him up and keep him from making it worse.

"…and you're telling me he dragged two bodies out there and burned them without anyone noticing? Sorry, I'm all for getting the sick fuck who did this, but I doubt it was Irish."

"Fine, but who did it then, hm? I mean it was _their_ pattern, it could've been the other one, hell, I don't know I just want them gone, I don't want another psychopath like the Governor in our town..."

"Connor was with me, alright. I said fingerpointin ain't gonna help no one, missy" Daryl snarled and looked at Wendy instead. "We were out there burning bodies while you painted your nails. He didn' do it, his bro didn' do it, now shut up."

Wendy opened her mouth to form an "O" to express her indignation.

Although Murphy didn't really feel like it and didn't want to let Daryl see he still had to smirk, even looking at the hunter for a second. He was still surprised to see and hear that his brother's friend was suddenly protective of him as well, although they had done nothing but fight and insult each other until today.

Daryl didn't notice the smile or the look though, because he was still looking a Terry, frowning, trying to figure him out.

The guy had just openly said that he thought Murphy was innocent. He'd been working with the Irishman, given him a job, had never threatened him or done anything wrong with him. All he had ever done was threaten Connor.

Connor, who had locked Murphy inside their apartment for the first couple of days after getting him back. Connor, who had tried everything to keep his sibling inside Woodbury, keeping him away from every single job they had to offer. Connor, who had brutally murdered a small group of hunters just because they had aimed a gun at Murphy. Connor, who had beat a guy like Tyreese to a bloody pulp today, Connor who had openly threatened other people and who had killed other people before whenever it had been about Murphy.

He had never made it a secret. That he could turn into a bloody, murderous psychopath as soon as someone threatened his brother or got too close to him. And it had already been like that even before the outbreak, the Boston incident, before everything.

_I told ye we shoulda killed those motherfuckers.  
He's fuckin with te wrong guy. 'm gonna catch him red handed and 'm gonna drop te motherfucker._

It was no secret that Connor could overreact beyond any reasonable proportions.

_Just listen t'yerself man, you should rest. The fever makes yah a bit…_

Daryl looked at Terry yet again, grabbing the steering wheel tighter.

I just let the guy know that I think you're innocent.

Great. Now it just looked like Connor had successfully managed to turn him in yet another uber-paranoid pussy. He wasn't like that. He didn't judge or kill people just because of some hunch, some distorted black-and-white thinking. He wasn't gonna do shit until he had some definite proof. Because he had just said it himself. Fingerpointing was stupid and dangerous.

When he looked back at the road he nearly had a heart attack, not just because Wendy suddenly screamed "LOOK OUT!" at the top of her lungs. Daryl hit the breaks and the clutch hard, trying to make their car stop in time, but it was too late. They collided with a walker and almost catapulted her off the road, tires screeching, car drifting left and right, multiple times, as the hunter tried to keep it under control.

They eventually managed to come to an abrupt halt but they had still driven too far, knocking walkers off their feet, making heads connect with their wind shield. The moment the car stopped all they could do was have a shocked look around, eyes widening.

They had driven right into a large herd of walkers. Shuffling corpses who were now staggering in their direction, leaning in, trying to crawl across the front part of the car, fingernails scratching on the windows, trying to get in, pressing dry and rotten mouth and teeth against it, staring at them with wide, dead eyes.

"Oh my god…." Wendy gasped and then screamed when a walker to her right banged on the window especially hard. A moment later the window suddenly broke under the sheer weight, making the woman scream even louder as the first walker managed to get his head inside the car, trying to grab her. Daryl tried to start driving again, in reverse, but then Murphy suddenly yelled "NO!" and, much to everyone's surprise and shock, suddenly ripped his door open and rushed outside, grabbing his knife and stabbing the first couple of walkers.

"EMO KID! GET BACK INSIDE!" Daryl, who was the most shocked of them all, yelled and wanted to get out as well, but the car was already getting surrounded and it was impossible for him to get his door to open. More and more walkers were staggering in their direction, slowly even getting behind their car, which made their need to hit reverse and get the hell out of here even more urgent.

But Murphy was outside, stabbing some walkers, kicking and showing them away until he reached the one that was still trying to get inside their car through the broken window, trying to grab screaming Wendy who had leaned as far away from it as possible, half lying on Terry's lap who was shouting for her to just stab the undead fuck but couldn't stab the walker himself because Wendy had him trapped.

But then Murphy suddenly grabbed the attacking walkers feet and tried to yank him outside, only just now realizing that the undead was stuck because he had stabbed himself in his belly with a piece of glass from the car window, which locked him in place.

Murphy, who was slightly freaked out because he was so close to walkers but who was running on adrenaline, then yanked as hard as he could, making the piece of glass cut open the walker's already rotten and mushy belly until his dark brown decaying and stinking blood and intestines started flowing, running down the car door, pooling on the ground by Wendy's feet. Then the walker was outside and Murphy stomped its head, turning around, stabbing and shoving some more walkers until he momentarily locked his eyes with Daryl, staring at him with wide eyes, chest heaving from the fight.

"GO! I got it! Drive away before they fuckin surround ye!" he shouted and then stabbed some more walkers, trying to keep them away from the car so his friends could leave the area before they all got surrounded.

"Are you insane, I ain't leavin you dumbass!" Daryl roared, mad with rage because there was no way in hell he was gonna let Murphy do something as stupid as this, no way in hell he was going to leave him here. Instead of doing as he was told he suddenly ripped the sunroof open, only to grab his crossbow and then climb outside so he could shoot the walkers that blocked the way back to the passenger door of their car.

"Get your ass back here!" he shouted when Murphy wouldn't get back right away but proceeded to stab a few walkers behind their car, but then he eventually listened to the hunter and ran back to his side of the car. He yanked the passenger door open and made it connect with another walker's face. He then climbed back inside the car just like Daryl, who shoved his crossbow into Murphy's lap.

Murphy immediately reached for Daryl and started hitting his chest multiple times.

"Reverse! Reverse fer fuck's sake, don' let 'em surround us again!" he shouted and Daryl immediately did as he was told, turning around and grabbing the back of Murphy's seat.

"Grab something!" he yelled and then accelerated as fast as he could, trying to keep the car steady. Some walkers were still behind their car, and no matter how hard the hunter tried, he couldn't drive around all of them and had no other choice but run them over.

All four of the group were pretty much thrown around, only the seatbelts keeping them in place until Daryl finally managed to spin their car around, to make them speed away from the herd as fast as they could.

"We gotta go back, 'n warn people. We're not even ten minutes away fram Woodbury" Murphy said, still out of breath and bloody from his insane little stunt.

"And lead them right back with us? No, we ain't gonna go back, our people need medicine" Daryl growled and took the next turn left, trying to find an alternative route to drive around the herd.

It was quiet for a while until Wendy suddenly leaned outside the broken window and started throwing up, simply because of the shock and the smell in the back of the car, because of all the blood, the intestines and other unidentifiable bloody mess that had pooled under Murphy's seat, close to her feet.

Daryl looked in the rearview mirror to see if she was alright, then he saw the broken window, the blood, remembered that all of this was Murphy's fault, that it was there because of what he had done. He grabbed the steering wheel tighter yet again and then ended up punching the younger MacManus' chest with his clenched fist and that hard, which made Murphy lose breath for a second until he started cursing and shouting at the hunter.

"I'm gonna fuckin kill yah!" he yelled and tried to punch Daryl back, who just glared at him.

"If yah do that one more time 'm gonna beat your ass into the ground" he snarled, because he still couldn't believe what his best friend's brother had done. It made him so mad because Murphy and Connor were so alike in that regard. Giving everyone heart attacks, risking their lives like that, relying on their stupid immunity and letting walkers so close to them.

He didn't even want to imagine what could've happened should any walkers have managed to get too close to the younger MacManus, possibly biting him, attacking him, tearing him to shreds right in front of his eyes. He hated that he was his responsibility now that Connor was sick, hated that he already seemed to care way too much about him, like Murphy had just sort of become his little brother as well.

"Fuck yerself" Murphy just said, still so fucking stubborn that he was. He then turned his head to the right and opened the window, staring outside and discretely trying to get rid of the blood on his face, ignoring everything else around him, slightly pissed because no one thanked him for saving their asses.

* * *

**the same day, the same place** **, the same instance  
**

They had been following the sound of honking car earlier today, drawn in by the constant sound of chaos, coming from a town that was plagued by fear and disease. The herd was about half a mile away from the small town of Woodbury when they came across the car, filled with four people. If they could still think or process anything other than hunger and aggression then they would be fairly confused.

One they considered their own, one who felt and smelled like them (at least to their senses), one who radiated the same basic definition of them was sitting amongst them, the piles of flesh, their food, trapped inside this steel box with rubber wheels. If they could still think and feel anything then they would feel betrayal, hurt over the fact that as soon as the one of their own exited the steel box, he started killing about ten of their own.

But they couldn't think, couldn't feel anything but hunger as they kept trying to get inside, trying to get to the flesh, trying to get closer to the all too familiar sounds of screaming and terror. But they never managed to get anything between their teeth because then the steel box suddenly drove away, knocking over another four of their own, spinning around, driving away.

And once again, they followed. Reaction to basic excitement of their senses, like dominos, the sound of screeching tires making one of them follow, getting everyone into action by default, the dominos falling into place, one after one. They did not care that the car had taken the next turn left, couldn't see it, couldn't smell it, couldn't remember.

They all kept walking and following the road simply because one of them was walking and leading, everyone following, getting closer and closer to the town's gates. They were slow because their rotten muscles, their decaying bodies did not allow them to walk faster or even run. It took them hours to pass the distance of half a mile, because they weren't walking straight and were getting distracted, but they eventually got closer.

It was already dark outside when they first saw the wall, the gate, the flickering of candles, the moving figures on top of the wall.

* * *

"I'M GONNA RIP YER LUNGS OUT! MURPH!" Connor shouted, banging on the door as hard as he could, until he turned around and tried to get to the bedside table, the little drawer there where he hid the things he had used to pick the lock of the door before.

But then he suddenly couldn't stop coughing again, because all of his yelling and his fit of rage had made it worse once more. He coughed and coughed, trying to get rid of the bright-red slime that tried to clog up his lungs and windpipe like sticky gum, until some of it exited his mouth with fine, bright-red droplets of blood.

Connor tried to clear his throat to keep his respiratory system free, even pulling back the snot that seemed to clog up his nose more and more. For a moment he even allowed himself to sit down and then even lie down on the floor between the door and his bed, once again trying to cool his forehead and cheeks on the cool surface, moaning and gently cursing in frustration.

Damn, it seemed to get worse by the minute. It really felt like his previous desperate tries to hide it and suffocate it had just made it worse. He clenched his fists in frustration because this whole thing made him so angry. He hated nothing more than a bloody cold, it didn't even matter that this one really could be angry.

He'd rather get shot or stabbed than feel this, all the slime, the raging infection, the constant burning in his lungs and diaphragm. He couldn't allow himself to get goddamn sick right now. Not when Terry had openly threatened his brother's life, not when Murphy was already on his way with that murdering, crazy son of a bitch who was still out for revenge.

_Escort him on the med trip to make sure he doesn't get gutted and killed because of someone else's fuck up during a scouting mission…._

_Taylor, Terry's brother. Lying on the floor with the walker on top of him, tearing at his guts and eating away._ _Taylor, still alive, whimpering his way through this torture, half dead, struggling and utterly insane. The gun on Taylor's forehead, the shot._

_Bloody Murphy, lying on the floor, bullet wound to his head, no longer moving, lifeless, dead._

Although Connor wanted nothing more than just lie here, cool his feverish body, get some rest and get better soon he forced himself to get back on his feet, even suppressing the coughs, keeping them in his throat. He was busy rummaging through the drawer when he suddenly heard the key to his door rattle and twist, which made him turn around to see who was entering his room.

Hershel was standing there in the door frame, piece of cloth covering his mouth, looking at Connor, then looking around the room.

The Irishman immediately let go of the drawer and approached the old man.

"Thank fuckin god, we gotta fuckin hurry" he said and another cough exited his mouth against his will.  
He already wanted to exit the room when Hershel suddenly raised his hand to signalize him that he was to stop.

"You can't…leave this room" he said, looking down a bit and trying to shield himself from heavy exposure.

"Te fuck 'm gonna do! Terry came in here a couple 'a minutes ago, he fuckin admitted that he burned Karen 'n David and now he's out there with Murph 'n Daryl! We gotta go after te sick fuck! Where's Rick?" Connor exclaimed and tried to force himself past Hershel, who placed a hand on the Irishman's chest and pushed him back gently.

The moment his hand connected with his chest, the only thing that shielded Connor's infected lungs, the Irishman could no longer keep the violent coughs in. He stumbled back and then doubled up in pain, coughing up some more blood and slime, quickly trying to turn away from Hershel. But then the old man approached him and placed a hand on the Irishman's back, quickly guiding him towards the bed and then forcing him to lie back down.

"Three more people died. One attacked Dr Stevens. Our people are dying like flies. You're not leaving this room. Not you."

"My fuckin brother's out there with…"Connor croaked until another coughing fit interrupted him, but he still tried to get back up until Hershel forced him to stay where he was.

"We know he didn't do it. Milton tested everything he got. Your brother is not carrying the infection. The blood on his shirt wasn't fresh but rotten, meaning his walkers in the church story was true. The footprints do not match. Rick and Milton were very thorough. However, the pigs were infected. You couldn't have known that."

"But...it doesn't change shit now cos Murph's out there with te sick fuck! I gotta go after 'em" Connor forced out between heavy coughs while Hershel kept trying to keep him in place.

"You won't even make it past the wall. You're in no condition to leave. Tyreese, Rick and Carol are on their way. Daryl and Wendy are with your brother. They can handle it. You can't…"

"I'm fuckin fine" Connor growled, trying to get up but then he felt dizzy yet again and allowed himself to lie back down. He shielded his eyes by placing his tattooed arm on his face, groaning gently, coughing and trying to clear his throat. He let out a shaky breath then and swallowed hard.

"Shit."

He turned his head a bit when he felt Hershel press a wet piece of cloth to his forehead.

"Everything that could've happened, and I get knocked out by a fuckin cold te moment some psychopath goes after me brother" he muttered, swallowing hard, his heart beating fast and painfully, because he was worried sick. "I fuckin knew, I shoulda stopped him, coughed him right in his fuckin face" Connor then said, shaking his head angrily.

He still wanted to get up but knew that Hershel was right. He cursed himself for Failing his brother once again. But this was exactly the curse, even if he went after Murphy now, he couldn't possibly get close to him. Not when he was infected, not when he could infect him as well.

_Fuck._

"Nobody could've known" Hershel said and then reached for the can of tea and the cup he had brought with him.

"I did. He hinted it more than fuckin once. Shit.." Connor muttered and then finally looked at the cup Hershel had used to pour the tea in to.

"Te fuck is that?"

"Tea. Various herbs and elder berries, too keep the infection and inflammation low" Hershel said and then made Connor drink.  
The Irishman immediately coughed again and spilled some of the tea, turning to the right and pulling a face.

"'s fuckin awful" he complained but then Hershel already approached him with the cup again.

"But it's going to help you."

Connor stared at the old man a bit, the bitter taste of the tea still making him want to gag. But maybe Hershel was right because in the end, he had helped him get better multiple times before. And if it was true then he really needed to drink it, to get better as soon as possible so he could go out there and protect Murphy from any other crazies who wanted to throw him out or do worse to him. So he clumsily took the cup and drank it up, trying hard not to cough and keep it in. Hershel watched him do it and then proceeded to cool his forehead with the wet piece of cloth again, until Connor couldn't help but smile as soon as he remembered.

"Ye remind me of my old man, sometimes" he admitted, putting the cup away and letting out a little exhausted sigh.  
He then looked at the ceiling, still smiling a bit. "Ye kinda look like him."

The truth was that this was pretty much the only thing Hershel and his father had in common, though. Because there had never been a time when either he or Murphy had been sick and their father had been there to take care of them the way Hershel was doing it now. No, he hadn't been there to do that. He'd never raised them, took care of them or done anything much fatherly because he'd been locked up in a prison in America.

No, if Murphy had gotten sick then he had taken over the father role, or when he and Murphy had gotten sick together, then their Ma had done everything, maybe with uncle Sibeal's help. But even though Connor still bore a little grudge in that regard he still had to admit that he missed their father, missed him whenever he interacted with Hershel, the father figure of their group.

"Ye shouldn' be here, Hershel. Yer old and…"

"And still kicking, boy" Hershel said and then laughed. Connor smirked a little but still looked worried, not just because of the whole Murphy issue, but also because he didn't want to infect anyone else, certainly not Hershel.

"Dr Stevens is lost. Milton can't come in here because we need him as a scientist, for a cure someday. Most of the town has gone outside looking for medicine, food. Rick can't come in here because he's got to look after the children, Judith, Carl. You're right, I'm an old man. I'm the only one who's left" Hershel explained and poured the Irishman another cup of tea.

 _"_ Which is why I'm in here, to look after everyone and make sure you won't die. We need you, your.. _"_

"..blood. I gettit, I gettit" Connor muttered and then turned his head a little to the side because he was sweating too much, because the fever was annoying him and he needed some place cool. It was quiet for a while as the veterinarian took care of Connor, who just watched him, coughing and sniffing every once in a while because his nose was running.

"So yer te one who told them about this college" he said after a while, which made Hershel nod.

"What people don't know is that most of the medicine used in animal health got the same ingredients we use. "

"And ye think it's still there."

"Just like I said. Most people don't know. And they won't come looking for it if they don't know."

Connor swallowed a bit and nodded, looking outside the window, worry still obvious.

"Aye. Guess yer right."

Hershel let out a gentle sigh and then looked Connor in the eye.

"Your brother is smart. Daryl is strong. And Wendy isn't stupid. Rick, Ty and Carol are on their way. If Terry really did this, murdered Karen and David in cold blood, then he got what's coming for him."

"But what if this fucker gets him off guard, I mean, that's how he did it with te two of them, right? I should…"

"What you should do with me" Hershel said and then suddenly grabbed the Irishman's hand.

"Is to pray and let god be judge" the old man said, reminding Connor of his own religiousness. The Irishman was rather unwilling to just let god decide at first, but his body told him that he was in no position to prevent anything anyway. So when Hershel started reciting the bible he eventually closed his eyes and mumbled the words with him, not only praying for Murphy and his wellbeing, but also for Daryl, for Hershel to stay healthy, for everyone in this block to make it.

They stayed like that for a while until some more banging and growling downstairs interrupted their prayers, making them look up.

* * *

They stared at the large three story red brick building that was slowly getting engulfed by wild vine. Green rakes that were climbing up the facade. For just a moment Daryl, Murphy, Terry and Wendy stared at the veterinarian college that looked slightly ominous on the outside, wondering how many walkers were in there.

"Looks like we're there" Daryl just muttered and then led the way with a shrug, crossbow ready to aim in case walkers decided to attack them. It was getting dark by now and he was in a hurry, not just because he wanted to get the medicine to Connor and their people, but also because he didn't fancy stumbling around an already dark building in the middle of the night.

Murphy looked at the building a little while longer and then quickly followed Daryl, eager to have the lead because he still considered himself the least vulnerable with is immunity. They were pretty used to the sight of it all by now. Abandoned buildings and cars, worn paper and other trash on the ground, nature slowly claiming everything right back, with no living soul roaming the campus that had once been filled with eager students and young adults, the sound of late night parties long since silenced and forgotten. They were used to the look, used to the silence, but no matter how many months they had spent in this new world now, it still crept them out.

Daryl and Murphy got in a little quiet and almost invisible scuffle the moment they reached the door, simply because they both really wanted to enter the building first. In the end it was Daryl who won simply because his crossbow was bulkier and provided more leverage, so he kind of shoved Murphy out of the way and entered the college building first, crossbow raised, aiming at halls that were only dimly lit by the daylight that was shining through dirty, overgrown windows. Daryl got back to his hand gesture signals and let everyone know that they were supposed to spread out a bit, so they could take a look at the storage lockers and info signs, anything useful.

"What are we looking fer again?" Murphy whispered and looked around, until Terry lifted a hand and showed him a small piece of paper.

"Got the list."

"Shhh" Daryl hushed them angrily and then led them upstairs until they reached a dark corridor. Some doors were open and let some light through, but the whole place still looked rather dangerous. For just a moment all four remained in their positions by the stairs, carefully listening up and trying to make out any movement, any sounds walkers usually made. But they couldn'thear anything. It was dead quiet.

A whistle right behind him and close to his right ear startled Daryl, which made him flinch and duck down just like the other two.

"God lord!" he then whisper-shouted the moment he realized that Murphy had done it.  
For yet another moment they stayed completely frozen in place, already fearing a herd of walkers to come running right at them, but nothing happened.

Murphy started snorting and chuckling.  
Daryl angrily lunged out and hit the side of the younger MacManus head hard, even shoving his elbow against his chest to shove him away some.

"You stupid fuck" he complained and Murphy just smirked, pushing his way past Daryl to enter the corridor.

"Fuckin pussy" he just said and then entered the first door to their left to go search the class rooms for anything useful. Daryl watched him leave with an angry look on his face and then shook his head in disbelief, silently cursing until he finally gave some more hand signs and pointed his crossbow at the dark corridor again.

"Alright, Wendy, you search the right side, stay within earshot, holler if you find something or need help. Terry, you stay here keep an eye on the stairwell. I'll go check the back, let's make this quick" Daryl ordered and started walking, heading right for the furthest door and possibly most dangerous area. Not just because he considered it his job and because he knew he had the best weapon, but also because he wanted to get as far away from Murphy as possible right now because he feared he was going to beat his ass otherwise, simple because the annoying Irishman had actually managed to freak him out with his whistling. So Daryl kept walking while Wendy entered a classroom to their right and Terry stayed where he was, machete in his hand, ready to kill.

* * *

Daryl searched a couple of class rooms until he came across a backroom that contained shelves upon shelves of bottled pills.

"Jackpot" he said with a tiny smirk and went right for them.

He didn't really know jackshit about what they were even looking for. He had a list with weird looking names he wouldn't be able to spell or pronounce, he just went ahead and grabbed whatever he could find, remembering what the others had told him. Anything ending with –cillin or –cin. Hershel had been right. Most of the drugs really were still here, simply because animals were printed on the various things, marking them as animal health products when they apparently could still be used for humans as well.

He found small bandages, sanitizers and all sorts of tools and products former vet students had used to experiment and work with, bags, tubes, clamps, connectors, anything that looked remotely useful. Daryl didn't know how much of this was _really_ of use for them but he grabbed as many things and drugs as he could, even stopping for a moment when he noticed a large pile of books, newspapers and magazines.

Especially the newspapers were interesting to him, not just because their front pages were filled with the last pieces of information they had managed to get from the civilized, scientific old world during the first days of the outbreak, but also because well fuck it, the hunter knew that his friend loved to read those old newspapers every morning, loved the stupid crossword puzzles and cheap jokes and caricatures in there.

Daryl turned his head to check if anyone was looking and then quickly grabbed some reading and entertainment material for Connor, not just to cheer him up, but also because he knew that they made his friend happy.

* * *

Murphy walked outside classroom to head for the next one, heavy backpack full of things he had found and considered useful. He had learned many things from Simmons and the cancer patients in Savannah, knew what could save lives and what was important. For just a moment he was even lost in thoughts, remembering his dead friend, wondering how his other sick friends were doing back down there in Savannah. He eventually looked back up again only to startle at the sudden sight of Terry, who was standing there in the corridor right next to the doorway to the stairs, back turned on him. The man was staring at a poster on the wall, one that was plastered with photographs of former vet students.

Murphy wiped his mouth quickly, trying to hide the fact that he'd been scared for a second, but Terry was just standing there, staring at the pictures, not really paying any attention to him.

"Taylor went to a college like this for a while" the other man suddenly said, obviously aware of the younger MacManus twin who was standing right behind him. "Wanted to be a med student, he did. He'd grown sick and tired of our business, the whole butcher thing. He was a pretty smart kid. Even tried to teach me some of that crap. It's why I know what we're lookin for" Terry said and then turned around to look at Murphy, giving him a tiny smile.

"We spent nights and nights with him just reciting all that bullshit because he had to know all of this by heart. I ain't exactly stupid but I only understood half the things he told me all the time" he went on and suddenly gave in to a gentle laugh, only to sigh, a sad look coming right back. "He went with them to get you some pills. The day he…."

Murphy pressed his lips together, once again feeling sorry for the man.

"He wanted to be all hero and help the doctors with his 'knowledge' of drugs and all that shit. Didn' help him much in the end, right?"

"I'm sorry" Murphy said again, even trying to gently pat the other man's back.

"You don't have to be, Irish. It's not about you" Terry muttered, looking at the pictures of deceased former vet students again.

Murphy wanted to say something, but right then the snarling of some walkers just down the stairs interrupted him and made him frown. The younger MacManus quickly approached the doorway to have a look outside the corridor, down the stairs. "Fuck" he said the moment he saw those walkers, who had been drawn in by his previous whistle. There were only three of them down there and Murphy automatically reached for his bowie-knife, thinking that he could take them on. He was immune after all, but it was what was on their faces that made him hesitate.

Trails of blood, running down their faces, from their eyes, ears and nose. Looking exactly like dead Charlie and Patrick.

They were infected.  
Had obviously died from the same disease that was now raging in Woodbury.

"Holy…" Murphy didn't get to finish the sentence, because then Terry suddenly grabbed him by his shirt, spun him around and locked him in a position like that, knife still in his hand, unable to move because Terry wouldn't let go of him and started scuffling with him.

"HELP! THIS SON OF A BITCH IS TRYING T'KILL ME! WENDY, DARYL!" the other man shouted as loud as he could, grabbing Murphy hard and shaking him around, no matter how hard he tried to get away.

"Let me fuckin go, are ye fockin insane?!" the Irishman yelled right back, desperate to get away because the walkers were coming closer and closer.

* * *

Wendy rummaged through the countless bags and drawers inside the classroom, hands still shaking violently, until she just couldn't do it anymore. During the entire drive to this college she had been brave enough to keep it in, to hide it from the men although she had wanted nothing more than just scream and give in to the inner panic. For just a moment she allowed herself to slide down the cupboard and sat down on the ground, a shivering, scared mess. She moved her shaking fingers through her long, blonde hair, quickly trying to put it up in a ponytail. She even allowed herself to sob for a moment because, _fuck_ _, this had been a close call._

It wasn't like this had been the first walker attack and near death experience she'd had ever since the outbreak. But still. It had never been _that_ close. She just needed to close her eyes and she could see everything happen all over again. The walker, suddenly crashing right through the window, the glass splinters and the smell…oh the smell.

She could still see all the sticky blood and slime on her sneakers, all the bloody mess that was drying and smelling so awful. Of disease, of rotten flesh, of death. She just needed to look at her shoes and she could see the pools of blood and guts in the car, remembered the stench that immediately made her want to gag again.

She quickly wiped the tears off her cheeks and sniffed hard, just staring at the ground for a while.

Wendy was sure that she wouldn't have made it if it weren't for this Irish guy she didn't even know. All she knew was that if Daryl had just started driving, the walker could've fallen inside the car, managed to bite her, the possibility of a bite getting more probable by the second. She knew that if this Murphy guy hadn't been so selfless that second, getting out of the car, killing some walkers, dragging the walker outside, then maybe she wouldn't even be here anymore.

Fuck.  
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She felt sorry.

She remembered everything she had seen and heard today. Burning Karen, a woman she had considered her friend, the blood trails, Murphy's desperate and almost violent attempts to defend himself.

_You really think he'd risk his ass leading a whole herd of walkers away t'protect people he don't even know…just t'randomly start killing those people the next day?_

This had been the second time this Irishman had thrown himself at a herd of walkers in order to protect someone he didn't know.

So what if he _was_ innocent?

Wendy sniffed and looked up, her stressed mind automatically telling her that maybe the guy had only done this to get the 'innocent little lamb' vibe on him. But then again, he had saved her life. Maybe she just needed some time to get to know him better. No matter what he had done or what she was going to do about it, there was one thing she needed to do. Thank him.

Wendy rubbed her eyes awkwardly and then pulled up the snot, determined to kill any further crying attempts or signs of weakness. What she did instead, was take her scouting bag and go outside to go look for Murphy, to thank him for what he had done less than an hour ago. It was easier than she would've thought, because the moment she stepped outside the door she could already see him, down the corridor, right there by the doorway that led back to the stairwell. Murphy was leaning out there, knife in his hand as he seemed to look at something down the stairs.

Then it happened. Terry, who had been standing right next to the Irishman, suddenly moved from one second to the next, grabbing Murphy by his shirt and spinning him around. For a moment Wendy just thought that he was trying to get the Irishman away from danger because then she could hear the snarls and grunts from the walkers, but her innocent suspicion got busted the moment Terry started screaming.

"HELP! THIS SON OF A BITCH IS TRYING T'KILL ME! WENDY, DARYL!"

She immediately started running.

"Let me fockin….LET ME GO! I DIDN' EVEN DO ANYTHING YE FUCKIN ASSHOLE!" Murphy shouted right back, struggling, his most basic instincts kicking right into action. He was forced to drop the knife when Terry suddenly twisted his wrist, yanked him to the side using the already abused arm as leverage and then spun kicking and fighting Murphy around, sending him flying through the doorway, down the stairs.

"NO! DARYL!" Wendy screamed and started sprinting, about a split second later Daryl entered the corridor, crossbow drawn, eyes wide open.  
Terry just pointed at the stairwell, chest heaving.

"He pulled a knife on me, this son of a bitch tried to stab me!" he shouted and pressed his back against the wall. Wendy didn't have the time to say anything to that because she ran right for the stairwell, desperate to see if the other member of their group was alright. Murphy had indeed stumbled down the stairs because of the sheer force of Terry's sudden force, but he'd had a soft landing. If one could call it that. Because the younger MacManus had knocked the walkers off the stairs as well, landing on top of them, knocked them back down.

The moment Wendy tried to run down the stairs to help him Murphy suddenly raised his hand to signal her to stop and then quickly yanked his shirt up with his other free hand, desperate to shield his mouth as he sat back up and tried to get away from the walkers.

"Get fuckin back! They're infected!" he shouted and although Wendy didn't look like she liked it she still obeyed, staying right at the top stair. A second later Daryl sped past her, running down the stairs, taking two at once until he was right down there with Murphy who protested but was ignored. Daryl quickly killed one walker with an arrow to his head and stabbed the other two with his knife, shielding his mouth with his red rag as well, the moment he saw the trails. He then quickly turned around and offered Murphy a hand.

"You alright?"

"Yeah.." Murphy mumbled and then immediately looked up the stairs. Wendy was there but he couldn't see Terry anywhere. He couldn't say anything else because then whole load of walkers suddenly burst through the door to the stairwell.

"Shit" Daryl and Murphy said at the same time, Wendy widened her eyes in shock.

"Oh my god, hurry!" she shouted down the stairs and then turned her head to the left when she heard Terry shout "This way!"

"Come on! Through the window!" Wendy then told them, shot two walkers who got to close to Daryl and then started running, disappearing through the doorway that led back to the dark corridor with the classrooms. For a split second Murphy just stared at the mob of walkers with bleeding or exploded eyes that came closer and closer to them, momentarily paralyzed not only from the shock of his fall down the stairs, but also because he wasn't used to being afraid of or running from walkers anymore. It didn't matter that the undead didn't feel the need to bite and eat him anymore, but they were once again deadly to him as well, because of this strange flu that had killed them, that was killing their town.

"Let's go!" Daryl shouted and grabbed him by his shirt, pulling Murphy back and forcing him to run back up the stairs. The moment they were back inside the corridor they could see the broken window at the end of it, the place where Wendy was sitting on the sill, waiting for them, waving for them to hurry up and get there.

Daryl kept shoving and shoving at Murphy to get him to run faster, occasionally turning around to keep an eye out and watch his back, shooting an arrow but then letting it be. Too many walkers with bloody eyes and mouths were heading for them. He didn't want to shoot them any longer because he feared that the possible sprays of blood could get on him, infecting him, or anyone else after having come this far.

"Go go go go" Daryl shouted as soon as they reached the window, forcing Murphy to jump to the other side, on top of a roof that was just opposite the college window. Daryl stayed in position until the very last minute, until he had made sure that everyone was outside, every bag was gone, as soon as he had made sure that Murphy was out of danger. Only then did he finally allow himself to climb outside and jump as well, the weight of the bag and crossbow pulling him down, almost making him miss the roof. But then he was on the roof as well, safe and sound, saw the infected walkers reaching for them through the broken window, trying to get to them, but being too stupid to climb outside or even jump.

It took both him and Murphy a second to catch breath, to get back up and check if everything was alright. It was then when they saw Wendy, gun in her shaking hands, pointed right at Terry who had both his hands in the air and kept looking at her.

"Wendy. You know me. We've been part of this town since it got founded" he tried to reason with her, trying to come closer.

"DON'T" she threatened the man, undoing the safety of her gun, giving Terry a hateful glare.

"What else was I gonna do? This sick fuck drew his knife on me! The moment he heard those walkers, he..he was gonna drop me, blame it on the walkers, cover it up the way he did it with Karen and David!" Terry exclaimed, pointing at Murphy again, who immediately lost it.

"Yer te one who fuckin attacked me and shoved me down those fuckin stares ye son of a…"

Daryl pressed his hand to the younger MacManus' chest and forced him to stay back, eyes fixed on the scenario that was going on between Wendy and Terry.

"They were our _friends_ _,_ Terry. You're right. We were all there when we founded Woodbury. We were there when the Governor descended into torture and murder, and you…."

Terry finally stopped his soothing gesture, stopped the act and seemed to get angry as well.

"Yeah you're right. They were our friends and we were there when the Governor was there, and you know what? _They_ _'re_ the reason Phillip turned into this, _they_ _'re_ the reason Taylor's dead, Karen and David were our friends but _he was my brother_ _!"_

"You fucking _murdered_ them! You murdered and burned them!" Wendy yelled back, once again forcing Terry to stop coming closer because she was now aiming the gun at his head.

"I know, but they don't need to know, do they? You're right, Wendy. We were there before them, we're friends, we're a team. This used to be our town with zero casualties, remember? Let's just…tell them the kid went crazy, killed redneck guy and we had to drop him. Just _imagine_ this, Wendy. Our people, Mike, Jake, Henry, they're not gonna want these people with us anymore, people who openly try to protect serial killers and disease ridden weirdos. This could be final drop, we could get Woodbury back to its former glory, all we gotta… _"_

A loud shot suddenly interrupted the man and made him scream, nearly knocking him off his feet and making him tumble towards the edge, the place were countless walkers had already gathered and were trying to reach for them on the roof. Wendy had fired a shot at Terry, hitting him in his left shoulder. Terry was busy screaming and trying to keep balance all the way through shielding his wound. The woman used the time to look at surprised Murphy and Daryl, fixing his eyes on the latter.

"I saw him do it. He attacked him for no reason and shoved him down those stairs" she informed the hunter, who had not interfered so far because he'd been wanting to get this bit of information.

"You fucking bitch!" Terry roared a split second later and tried to launch himself at Wendy but then it was Daryl who reacted, stepping between them, punching Terry hard in his face and then grabbing him by his shirt to keep him from falling off the roof. They were very close to the edge now and the hunter gave the already wounded man a death glare, dirty, muscular arms flexing under the sheer weight and struggle, the tension, the aggression.

"You killed Karen 'n David and shoved M down the stairs?" he snarled, right in the man's face.

Terry looked right back at him, just as angry, nose bloody from the punch, shoulder bleeding from the shot.

"Fuck you."

Daryl immediately got even closer to the man until they were nose to nose, staring him down, trying to intimidate him as much as possible. Right then and then an incredible wave of wrath and anger rushed over him as he saw all of Connor's suspicions confirmed, as he realized that the man right in front of him had really tried to _kill_ Murphy, had killed other members of their group.

He felt insulted, he felt incredibly angered by this whole thing until all he could see was red. He had spent more than a _year_ trying to put Connor back together after his lookalike's 'death'. One year of seeing his best friend going through the most horrible strings of emotions, the grief, the depression, the pain and heartbreak. One year of putting him back together, less than a month of getting Murphy back and giving the two of them their old life back.

And this piece of shit had really tried to destroy that.

Put Connor through all this again. Tried to kill Murphy, his lookalike, this guy not even a bullet and bite had managed to destroy, both his good-hearted nature and body. A guy he already and pretty much considered _family_ _._

Daryl clenched his fists tighter, grabbing Terry's shirt hard and staring him down, until he could no longer keep it in.

"Next time you try t'kill someone, you do it like this" he then snarled, and for a split second he thought about countless ways to kill Terry for threatening any MacManus twin's life or just getting close to them. He pictured countless murders, shooting the guy with his crossbow like he had told Connor he was going to do it, shoot him, stab him and gut him like the walker in their car, burn him alive for what he had done with Karen and David.

During that split second, in the end, his mind settled with the simplest solution.

He shoved him.  
Kicked his legs and let go of his shirt, abrupt, violent, unforgiving.

Terry didn't get the chance or time to try and hold on to the hunter because he hadn't thought that Daryl was really going to pull it through. The butcher tumbled and then fell right off the roof, a loud scream escaping his mouth until his back connected with hands of a waiting mob of walkers that started tearing at his flesh, his bleeding shoulder, biting his neck, his arms, anything they could get. Terry started screaming like a madman, the agony driving him insane, almost a perfect copy of his brother's death.

Daryl didn't waste any time on watching the bloody torture, he just grabbed the two bags and his crossbow with an angry look on his face.

"We all saw it. He fell" he just said and then headed for the end of the roof, trying to get away as quickly as possible. For a moment Wendy and Murphy just stood there and had to watch Terry's gruesome death though, simply because they were so surprised and shocked by everything they had witnessed.

Wendy was the first to leave after that because she was close to throwing up again, the emotional trauma of this entire day really weighting her down. However, Murphy walked right towards the edge of the roof and watched the walkers tear gurgling and gasping Terry apart, the man who was staring back up at him with insane eyes, the man who had killed people of their own and had tried to pin it on him and Connor, the man who had tried to _kill_ him today.

Murphy did feel some sort of gratification. Justice, absently rubbing the tattoo on his finger, the tattoo on his lower arm. But in the end, he knew that this wasn't _right_. He remembered everything Connor and Simmons had told him about them so far. Everything about himself. He had killed evil bastards before all this. Delivered them to god. Crossing their arms over their chests. Giving them pennies. Dropping them, with gunshots to their heads. Simple. Quick. Efficient. Just. Their just sentence: death.

Never torture.  
Never _this_ _.  
_ No matter how much they deserved it. __  


Murphy pressed his lips together and then pulled his gun, aiming at Terry's head.  
For a moment he remembered the incident back in Boston. At the quarantine zone. The soldier. Ashley.  
Who had also fallen down and into a mob of walkers. Because of him.

It was the right thing to do.

He knew he was supposed to say something, something important right then and there.  
But he couldn't quite remember. All he remembered was the ending.

"….In Nomine Patris, Et Filii, Et Spiritu Sancti" was all he could say, aiming the gun at screaming Terry's head, pulling the trigger.

His attacker was silenced. Murphy had wanted to deliver justice, had wanted to kill his betrayer, and this was what he had done.  
He crossed himself and then quickly followed Daryl and Wendy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again: feel free to comment and leave kuddos if you liked the chapter, and if you didn't, feel free to tell me why =)


	25. Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys! Sorry it's taken me so superlong to update this time. Writer's block kinda hit me, then I had a shitload to do with university stuff, then I got into a new fandom, blablabla. But I'm still gonna keep going with this fic! Although I had to kick myself in the ass this time. :D I hope it's not too bad. I had some trouble getting back into the fic after two weeks of not writing. Anyhoo, here's a new chap.
> 
> We're getting very close to the mid season finale stuff! Be prepared for loads of craycray.  
> Also more Connaryl is on its way sooner or later ;)

It seemed like the whole thing was very eager to keep repeating itself. The harsh and loud sounds of growling and banging on doors had lured them outside, and no matter how much Hershel really tried to make Connor stay in bed, the Irishman refused to let the old man handle the situation on his own.

The Irishman was still coughing a lot, the fever gave him a blurry vision and he had a hard time walking straight because he felt pretty weak, but he kept going. He knew what those sounds meant. More people had died and turned and now that they were walkers, they were trying to get out, ready to stumble down the corridors, eager to find living prey, their next victims. Connor knew that if he let Hershel deal with all this by himself, the whole scenario from earlier this morning was going to repeat itself. They couldn't risk the freshly turned to get out and start killing all over again, they had lost way too many people in less than 24 hours after all.

It was almost hopeless, and Connor found himself looking outside the windows more than once, because he was getting more and more worried. Not just because of the whole Murphy being out there with the psycho killer issue, but also because now that Dr Stevens was gone, Milton couldn't come in here and now that Hershel was the only medic left, it was actually getting kind of hairy.

They needed the medicine. Each time Connor saw another turned person or had to force a coughing person to keep still, he became aware of that more and more. And the burning pain in his chest, throat and sinuses, as well as each deep and aching coughing fits just made it even more obvious.

He and Hershel spent hours roaming the building, going down the stairs and back up again, constantly checking on patients, pumping air into someone's lungs, getting rid of bloody sheets and rags. It wasn't exactly helping that Connor couldn't breathe that good either, but there was no way in hell that he'd ever admit that he was actually weak and vulnerable himself right now.

He knew that Hershel trusted him and believed him, and he knew that it was going to become clear and evident that neither Murphy nor even him had killed Karen and David. But he still wanted to show _everyone_ that they were good people, that this was about their town, that they were all part of one team, which was why he was so eager to help now.

Four more people suffocated on their own blood and died during the course of those couple of hours, and it was mostly Connor who put them down, sometimes simply getting it done and over with with a simple stab, sometimes struggling a little more when heavy coughing fits took hold of him. But he tried hard to keep them in and hide them, because he knew that it would only make Hershel's nagging worse. The old man just kept trying to get him back to bed, but how the hell could he possibly lie low when all of this was happening? He couldn't give in. couldn't stop fighting and being strong, because then he was showing defeat, and he knew where that path led.

But the truth was actually quite simple. He _should_ lie down and rest because _was_ weak and even worse, scared. For many reasons. Scared, because it was taking Murphy and Daryl so long and because he didn't know what was going on with Terry, scared, because he could see the progression of the disease he carried.

People were dying and choking on their own blood. People were dying and put down like sick dogs. He didn't know if it was just psychosomatic or the real deal, but he himself felt like breathing was getting harder and harder. He didn't feel as bad as some of the others, and maybe he could blame it on his immunity, he didn't know, but it was still starting to freak him out as well. Connor couldn't help but wonder. How long was it going to take before he ended up choking on his own blood? How long was it going to take before the fever was burning him up as well?

He'd been there before. He knew how bad it really was, how scary and plain terrifying. He didn't want to live through a repetition of _that_ night ever again. His biggest mistake during that night after the farm had been that he had allowed himself to lie down. Only because of his giving up the fight had he almost not been able to get up again, resulting in Daryl almost shooting him in the head.

Daryl. That was another story.

Connor let out an exhausted sigh for a moment and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Hershel used the time to give the deceased a final blessing, to bid him farewell with a few passages from the bible. Maybe it was a good thing that it was taking Daryl and Murphy longer to get here. Connor especially didn't want to put his friend through all that again. He knew that Daryl wasn't good at taking something like that. They could fight all they want, they could beat each other bloody and yell at each other and insult each other until they were blue in the face, but Connor just knew that Daryl cared very fucking much about him.

This was another reason why he just kept going right now, why he was so eager to keep moving and help Hershel. He didn't want Daryl to see how he truly felt. Like shit. Maybe not as bad as right after his first bite, but still. It certainly was no picnic.

For just a moment he allowed himself to keep his eyes closed, to wince when he swallowed and it hurt, he allowed himself to cough into his fist and wipe the sweat of his feverish forehead. He allowed himself to zone out a bit and listened to his rapid heartbeat, the rhythmic pounding in his ears, allowed himself to feel the burning pain in his throat, lungs, head and nose. The Irishman knew that if he really allowed himself to give in now, he was going to collapse. Maybe black out and truly cough like there was no tomorrow. For a second he even played around with that thought, spinning it around in his head.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder he immediately snapped his eyes open again and found himself looking at Hershel, who had a worried look on his face.

"You should rest" the old man said, almost in a fatherly manner, and nodded at the can with elderberry tea again.

Connor sniffed and wiped his nose quickly, clearing his throat and then shaking his head.

"We should go, get rid of te bodies and burn them. We can't stay in here with more 'n more bodies pilin up and rotting away in these beds. We gotta at least try ta keep te place somewhat sterile. People don' wanna see the outcome of tha fuckin disaster. We should protect the sick" he said and tried to head for the door, but Hershel grabbed him by his arm to stop him.

"You can't go out there. You're sick, you're exhausted. If you don't rest and give your body a break you're just going to make it worse."

Connor shrugged Hershel off with an angry huff and looked at him.

"So what are ye gonna do? Half the town is in here, the other half is either keeping watch or out there looking fer supplies and medicine. We can't send the few remaining healthy ones in here and back out there with infected corpses without risking more infections, and we can hardly send you out there ta drag all the bodies around when ye only got one fuckin leg. 'm sorry, Hershel, I'm only being realistic. I know I should rest but fuck it, 'm pretty much the only sick one left standing and someone's gotta have te balls ta get a hold of the situation. Being around infected's not gonna do much ta me anymore. Let's face it, we're both fuckin handicapped but we gotta make te best outta it, now shut it and help me, old man" the Irishman said angrily and ended up coughing after talking that much, but he just ignored his own sickness and went right ahead.

Connor approached the dead man on the bed and, after crossing himself, wrapped the blankets and sheets around his corpse to get him ready for transport.  
It was then when two more hands suddenly grabbed the sheets as well, making the Irishman look up.

"We need to get a car. We can't burn the corpses in our backyards. We should drive them outside town. Go tell Glenn and Sasha to look after the sick ones in the mean time. You're not going out there on your own."

* * *

"'s fuckin perfect!" Murphy shouted and kicked the dashboard hard with an angry growl.

Their car wasn't working anymore. Their collision with the herd earlier today had clogged the engine up with all sorts of disgusting things, hair, skin, even pieces of bones from all the countless corpses they had mowed down during the attempt to get the hell away. What made it even worse was the fact that it happened to be the same car that had broken down earlier as well, when Connor and Daryl had been on their way to burn corpses and when that other group of murdering psychos had shot at them.

Daryl now cursed himself for not listening to his friend when Connor had suggested that they should've just taken another car from the parking lot at the golf club then, cursed himself for insisting that they should take this piece of crap back with them because it was so 'reliable'.

He had opened the front lid to see what was worth saving, but his knowledge of car mechanics told him that this whole thing was a lost case.

Again.  
 _  
What is it with us and broken down cars 'n flat tires all te time._ , Connor had said earlier today.

How fucking true.

Daryl tried to get rid of some of the hair and skin but the engine was burning hot and even smoking a bit, not to mention the awful smell of burned, rotten skin.  
The hunter looked up the moment he heard the slam of a car door.

"Te fuck's takin ye so long?" Murphy snarled angrily, having lost his patience once again. The younger MacManus walked up to Daryl and the front of the car to see what was going on. Daryl looked at him for a moment but then concentrated on the car engine again, trying to rub it clean with his red rag. But it was useless. The hunter kicked the front of the car a bit and then stepped back.

"Piece of shit ain't workin no more" he growled and slammed the front lid shut, putting his hands on his hips with an angry frown. Murphy looked at the lid of the car and back at Daryl multiple times, until he approached the hunter and shoved him.

"Then fuckin get it workin again!" he demanded, angry, in a hurry and most importantly, being a pain in Daryl's ass once again.

The hunter shoved the Irishman back with an angry growl.

"It would still work if you dumbass hadn't thrown yahself right at these walkers! If you'd just kept your ass inside the car we wouldn't have gotten surrounded in the first place you dumb fuck!"

"Fuck ye, what else was I gonna do, let 'em eat Wendy? At least I was doin something insteada just staring at these dead fucks and not doin anything at all, and if anyone wrecked this car then it's gotta be you asshole cos you drove it and didn' even fuckin see the herd in te first place!" Murphy snapped back and they were close to fighting yet again.

It wasn't even like they hated each other. But they were both stressed, the wrecked car annoyed the crap out of the both of them because they really wanted to get back to Connor, to get him his medicine, to be with him, to help their whole town and tell them about Terry.

"Guys… guys…GUYS!" Wendy finally stepped in, walking right between them and placing a hand on each chest, only to look at Daryl and Murphy.

"If you keep yelling like that we're just going to lure another bunch of walkers over here, and I'm not exactly in the mood for any more of that fighting and yelling crap today! Stop acting like children!" she said and gave them an angrily glare, which got even more serious as soon as she pointed her finger at the both of them.

"Let's just grab our gear, start walking, and find ourselves a new car! My best friend is back there, and she needs medicine just as much as your brother, and your friend or whatever. Now let's go" she said and even buried her finger in Daryl's chest to shove him back and start walking.

Both men were momentarily silenced because of the sheer surprise and shock and no matter how hard they tried, it wasn't like they could fight the woman because frankly, they were quite scared of her, hell, women in general. Daryl frowned a little because he was confused by the "friend or whatever" statement, immediately freaked out and wondering how much Wendy knew about him and Connor. Murphy just threw his hands in the air with an annoyed growl and walked back to his side of the car so he could do as he was told, whether he wanted to or not.

In the end he supposed that Wendy was right. Just standing here and fighting all day wasn't going to help anyone back in Woodbury, certainly not Connor. They needed to move and find a new car then, since the fucking redneck was obviously too stupid to fix the car. Funny that, he'd seen the fucker work on his stupid bike more than once back in Woodbury, all showing off and trying to look cool with his stupid biker vest and roaring engine. And as soon as their car broke down he couldn't do shit? The fuck? Murphy even allowed himself to kick the car angrily and then cursed under his breath.

This entire fucking day was a piece of shit. This was another reason why he wanted to get going so badly. Not just because of Connor, but also because he was fed up with everything. Today had been nothing but a nightmare. With the whole outbreak, the burning of bodies, Connor getting sick, Terry trying to kill him, and now the car breaking down.

And to make it only worse….when he looked up he could see that the sun was setting already. He was sure that they wouldn't get back home before nightfall, maybe even not before tomorrow morning. Murphy packed his things together and gripped the bag a bit tighter than necessary, because now he was actually worried sick.

He'd seen Patrick and the others. The blood, he'd heard the coughs and he'd heard Dr Stevens talk about it.  
There had been dead people, and there was a reason why they'd gone out here looking for medicine after all.

What if Connor was dead by the time they came back home?

Everything had gone to shit pretty fast. So what if he was suffocating on his blood right now?  
Fuck fuck fuck.

He packed everything up even faster and startled when something was thrown at his feet.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed angrily and turned around, only to see that Daryl had thrown a fuel can and hose at him but was already walking around their car to get to the trunk.

"Stop whining and make yourself useful. Pump the gas outta the fuel tank" the hunter murmured and didn't give Murphy any chance to say something to that. The younger MacManus wanted to complain, wanted to snap and fight some more because he was so fucking fed up with everything right now, but in the end he gave in without a sound and headed for the back of the car. He supposed Daryl was right, they needed the fuel for the car they were going to go look for, and although he still didn't want to do anything to please the annoying face stealer who fucked his own brother, he gave in.

This was the second time in less than 24 hours. The second time he had to go back out here, drag bodies around, only that this time, it was even worse than earlier this morning. They weren't digging holes, that was probably a good thing because it was less demanding and neither he or Hershel would have been able to do it anyway, but at the same time, it was still harder.

His shirt was drenched with sweat by now and kept gluing itself to his back, his belly, even his ass. No matter how many times Connor tried to wipe the sweat off his face using his already drenched shirt or sweaty forearms, it wasn't helping any.

There were many reasons why he'd come out here. The first one didn't exactly have the desired effect. Now that the sun was slowly setting it was getting a bit cooler, and he certainly appreciated the fresh air out here, but it wasn't as cooling and good as he'd hoped for it to be.

Reason number two why he was out here was also the official reason: getting rid of the bodies. It was exhausting as hell, it was sobering and upsetting, but it needed to be done. The bodies were already smelling not just from their previous sickness and death but also because of the heat, and the whole thing was reason enough to get it over and done with. They were a pile of infectious, biological and possibly hazardous waste.

The Irishman was once again reminded of the early days of the outbreak, how fucked up _that_ had been. The piles of bodies back at Fenway Park in Boston, on Mass Pike or all around the Boston Harbor area. The sheer amount of corpses and them not being able to keep up with the burning process had made the whole thing get out of hand in the first place. He didn't need to know much shit about medicine, didn't need to be a medic to get that. They just _couldn't_ give everyone a proper burial.

But it was exactly that what made Connor a bit upset, it went against his beliefs, everything he wished for. As he stacked up the bodies and put them on a pile just off the road on a small clearing inside the nearby woods he couldn't help but wonder if people were going to do the same to him, should this stupid disease get him.

Of course it wasn't going to get him, he thought with an angry frown. He was a tough fucker, he'd survived two bites, getting shot multiple times, he'd survived a jump of a five story building, and so on and so forth. Most of all: he was fucking Irish. But still, maybe he couldn't help but wonder.

He didn't want to end up on a pile like this. Buried underneath disease ridden, rotten corpses. Burned like witches on a stake, burned like Karen and David earlier today. He knew that neither Daryl nor Murphy would ever let that happen to him, but still, what if it happened?

No, not after everything.

Although he was completely exhausted by now and could hardly stand Connor forced himself to keep piling the bodies up, to not let Hershel, and old man with an amputated leg, do most of the work. Because fuck it, he just had a damn cold! He forced himself not to cough once more although it was incredibly hard and his throat was burning like he'd drunk liquid burning hot lava. He needed to be strong, because there was a reason number three why he was out here.

Get some fresh air. Burn the bodies and help Hershel.  
And maybe be out here to go look for Murphy and Daryl for a bit.

Because it was taking them too long now. He knew it. Fort Valley was an hour drive from here. Maybe two. Add another one or two hours of looting time and they should've been back here at least two hours ago. Terry had made it obvious that he wanted to use this mission to do something to Murphy.

Connor was beyond freaked out and wanted nothing more than just follow them, find them and kill the fucker, but at the same time he knew that it was stupid. He trusted Murphy, knew that he could watch his ass just fine and he also knew that Daryl was going to look after his brother just as much as he looked after him.

But now it was just getting scary.

_What if Terry had killed them both? His best friend and his brother?_

He wanted to be out here and see them return. He wanted to check if only Terry was in the car when he returned, and he wanted to murder him even before the guy managed to step foot in their town, should that be the case.

But they were nowhere in sight.

Connor would look up from his work from time to time, not just to look for his brother and friend, but also because he needed to catch breath more and more, because his eyes were stinging with hot sweat and from the fever. He almost lost grip of the fuel can when they poured the liquid on the corpses, but as soon as Hershel tried to help him he just shrugged the old man off with an angry frown and carried on with his task.

As soon as the corpses were drenched he searched his pockets for his pack of cigarettes in which he also kept his lighter and matches and then lit one on fire, to throw it on the pile and set their former friends and members of their sick town in flames. The heat was almost killing him by now. It felt like the fever was only getting worse because of the heat from the fire, but for some reason Connor couldn't stop staring at the flames, imagining many faces in there. His own. Murphy's and Daryl's, should Terry do the same to them as he had done to Karen and David.

There was no way in hell he was going to let that happen.  
He wasn't going to die. Murphy or Daryl weren't going to die.  
No. Not anymore.  
Not anymore people.

Connor clenched his fists and felt a sudden incredible wave of anger, because his sickness annoyed him and pain made him angry by default, because he was furious with Terry and anyone else in their town who believed that his brother had done anything wrong.

It was then when everything went black, from one second to the next.

Connor fell to the ground with a muffled grunt, his vision blurring for a moment, confused as hell. There was a sudden, sharp pain in the back of his head and no longer just in his throat and aching lungs, and for a second he didn't know what was going on.

 _Was this the sickness claiming him back, just like that? Not allowing him to force himself to be strong and get over it?_ The Irishman winced in pain and couldn't help but cough violently, which only made his sudden headache worse. But right now he was momentarily and almost paralyzed from the sudden shock and pain, which made it impossible to fight anything, be it the sickness or whatever was out there.

It took him a moment to recover from his coughing fit and open his eyes again, and Connor let out a pained grunt as he reached for the back of his head, only to feel the bruise that was already forming there. A moment later he was suddenly kicked and thrown on his back. It was then when he suddenly felt even more pressure to his already tense chest and found himself gasping for breath as a foot pressed him down and kept him on the ground, dangerously close to the burning corpses.

When his heated vision was finally clear enough to make him see again he found himself facing the muzzle of a cold gun, which was pointed right at his head. There was some laughing there, that was the first thing he really noticed as he slowly gained consciousness again. It took him a while to truly process everything but then it slowly dawned on him. It wasn't the sickness or fever which had knocked him out cold like that. The pounding in the back of his head told him a different story, the metal object in front of his eyes made it clear. This fucker had knocked him out with a hard blow of the grip of his gun, right to the back of his head.

"You know, we almost thought we'd lost you after your little visit earlier this morn. But good god, here you are, making smoke signals and practically sending us a 'come and get me' invitation" his attacker greeted him, which was followed by the chuckling of multiple people.

Connor groaned in pain and ended up coughing again, because the pressure to his chest made it impossible to fight it now. But he still tried to fight and automatically reached for his gun to shoot his attacker, but his attempt was interrupted with yet another painful kick, then another man stepped right on the Irishman's left hand which had only just recovered from broken bones he had inflicted himself when he had tried to escape Woodbury a couple of months ago.

Connor yelped in pain and ripped his eyes wide open in surprise, only to end up coughing and then forcing himself to shut up. The other man kicked his gun away and then stepped on his hand again, pressing his foot down onto the Irishman's hand and keeping it locked there. The sudden harsh pain in his wrist had pulled Connor right out of his dizzy post-knock-out and feverish craze, leaving him wide awake and staring at his attackers.

And this was when he could see it. The army trucks. The guns, not only pointed at his head but also at Hershel, who had been forced on his knees and just knelt there with his hands in the air, shotgun pressed to the back of his head as he looked at Connor with wide, worried eyes.

It was the pose he recognized right away. The guns, the people. The cars.

The guy with the broken nose who was grinning down at him.

The farm. The ambush. The group he and Daryl had watched. The guys who had tried to get them out of their car. One of those guys was facing him right now.  
The same gun, his nose broken from when Daryl had slammed the car door right into his face.

He couldn't see the other guy, the one who had pressed a knife to his throat, but those were unmistakably the people from the farm, who had executed the old farmer and those two teenagers, the people who had previously forced them unto their knees and pressed their guns to their heads just like they were doing it to Hershel now.

"Ohhh, what is it, you can't breathe, hm? Wait, let me help you…" the man said and only stepped on Connor's chest even more, almost shifting his entire weight onto his ribcage to a point where the Irishman feared it was going to break or forcing his already abused and infected lungs to explode. But he forced himself to keep silent, to not show any weakness and let them see that he was in pain, and he thanked god that he was actually rather good at this.

The man suddenly leaned further down and didn't give Connor a chance to reply, because then he already kept talking.

"You know, Aaron couldn't breathe anymore either when you two fucks were done with him" the man snarled in Connor's face and then nodded to the left, the man who was already stepping on the older MacManus' hand.

"Listen…"Connor grunted and finally tried to get a hold of the situation but was silenced when the grip of the rifle suddenly hit his head hard once again, making his ears ring and making him see stars for a moment as the hot and white flash of pain rushed through his already aching head and body.

For about a minute Connor actually _really_ couldn't breathe because the blow had caused his nose to bleed, because it was running down his face and because of the pressure to his chest and the coughing fits made it almost impossible to keep his airways free, but after what felt like eternity of struggling and Hershel speaking up to get them to stop the pressure was finally lifted off Connor's chest and he started coughing violently, spitting blood, even slightly rolling to the side, doubling up a bit to a point where he almost gagged.

What just made it even worse was the fact that all these people around them were laughing, with one woman, the one they had already seen freak out earlier today, who was laughing especially hard and loudly.

"Take them back to camp. We heard him and another guy talk about a town of theirs. Derek's gonna love me."

The moment the weight was lifted off his chest and Connor could finally stop coughing again the Irishman immediately reached for his attacker's jeans to grip it tight and stop him from leaving. "Let the old man go, he's got nothing ta fuckin do with it" he grunted and simultaneously tried to get up, lunge out and protect Hershel, but his system was too weak from the flu, and another coughing fit almost knocked him out anyway.

The gunman actually just looked down at Connor, who was a bloody coughing mess by now but still fought way to hard to get back up again, despite the fact that he was completely surrounded. His attacker even took the time to look at Hershel, who looked just as helpless but somewhat strong and who had his eyes fixed on struggling Connor with a worried look on his face, always aware of the guns pressed to the back of his head.

For a moment it actually looked like they were considering it as they watched Connor and how he tried to get up under heavy coughing fits with his bloody mouth and nose. Seconds passed and then they all just started laughing again, and the moment Connor tried to raise his hands in a soothing gesture to get them to talk to him and buy himself and Hershel some time, he was already knocked out cold by yet another painful and hard blow to his head, only that this time, it really left him unconscious before he even hit the ground.

* * *

They entered the gas station in the pitch dark, Daryl always careful and slow, Murphy just annoyed beyond any reasonable proportions. He just wanted to get it over and done with, find the stuff they needed for the car they had found outside, get back to Woodbury, bring Connor and everyone else their medicine, fill them in on Terry and that's it.

He didn't give a rat's ass about walkers and once again actually tempted them to come and get them, which was why he whistled once again and almost made Daryl jump. The hunter didn't get the chance to yell at the Irishman because then some walkers came shuffling towards them, bang on the dot, drawn in by Murphy's previous whistle.

Daryl tried to raise his crossbow to point it at their heads but Murphy suddenly started running right at the undead, knife in his hands, launching himself right at them and stabbing them in their heads.

"Emo kid!" Daryl automatically snarled once again and came running after the older man, since it had already become some sort of bad habit. He _hated_ how Murphy just kept doing that, launching himself at every possible danger with fists flying, and it slowly but carefully made the hunter understand his friend a bit more, why Connor was always freaking out over his stupid twin brother and tried to keep him from everything.

But Murphy didn't seem to care about anything, he went right ahead, hacking and shoving and kicking his way through the couple of walkers that were trying to get to Daryl, until the last one was downed with a surprise arrow from the hunter, who had finally managed to shoot one at their attackers during this little chaos, and maybe he didn't even care if he hit the stupid Irishman right now.

"I told you to keep your fuckin trap shut!" Daryl said angrily and approached the Irishman to try and shove him and knock some sense into him somehow, but Murphy wasn't having any of that.

"And I told ye I don' need a fuckin babysitter! I coulda just gone in here and get yer shit, 'm getting sick of everyone treating me like a fuckin baby, I can watch my ass just fine, just like I coulda fuckin handled this Terry prick!" Murphy spat and then turned around to get his knife back, pulling it out of the rotten eye socket of one of the walkers with a sickening smacking sound.

Daryl watched the Irishman fiddle about for a moment, as he finally understood what Murphy's sudden anger issues were about. Up until now, he hadn't quite been able to understand why the fuck this stupid idiot was angry with him after he had just saved his sorry ass from this psychopath, but now he was surprised to find out that it was exactly about that.

Daryl snorted and shook his head. About a year ago this would've been the moment where he'd just throw himself at the man and got into a fight with him yet again, triggered by Murphy's neverending trying to put up a fight, nervous bundle of energy that he was. But a lot had changed during the past year and Daryl now found himself far more relaxed about the whole thing, almost to a point where he even dared to call it _understanding_. It was kind of funny. His entire family life had been far from normal and ordinary. His entire relationship with Merle had been far from ordinary and normal.

And yet, it was still the same. He was a little brother, too, after all. He swallowed hard and looked away for a moment. He _had been_ , he thought bitterly, but that didn't change anything right now. He knew what this was about, knew what Murphy was aiming at, was always aiming at, had done it for the past couple of days. He hated to be looked after like a little kid, like he wasn't a grown ass man, he had wanted to kill Terry.

He didn't even want to know how bad it must've been with Connor before all this. The guy could be pretty goddamn annoying. But it wasn't like Murphy couldn't be equally annoying. It was almost crazy how easy it was to get the younger Irishman to lose his shit all the time. He was a million times more emotional than Connor, and even more aggressive than him sometimes, which was actually kind of impressive.

Daryl decided to leave the younger MacManus be because he could already kind of read the man as well, knew when he needed to cool off and be on his own.

Not like he cared, he tried to keep telling himself. He was only looking after the annoying fuck because of Connor after all, was doing it for Connor. Who was equally annoying, he thought, and actually had to frown a bit as he searched the shelves for the parts they needed to get the car going again.

He was incredibly angry with Connor right now as well, hated him for not being here with him, for making him have to search this stupid gas station with a bubbling volcano of emotions instead. If Connor was here right now that everything would be quieter, more chill and relaxed, there would be jokes, maybe even some stupid, girl-like fucking flirting instead of this mess.

He missed his friend already and wanted to get going just as much as Murphy, who was almost speeding around the isles and packing various shit together with an angry look on his face. Daryl was busy checking out the car battery he had found when he suddenly noticed the lack of rummaging sounds, and when he looked up he saw Murphy standing there between two shelves, staring at the ground.

For a moment the hunter concentrated on his battery again and acted like he didn't care, but then he eventually stilled as well and bit his lip, looking at Murphy who had his back turned on him. The hunter let out a little angry growl and then grabbed the battery, giving in and heading for the Irishman with a frown on his face.

He could see what Murphy was staring at as soon as he got closer. There was an empty bottle of antifreeze lying on the ground, with plastic cups and a large dried puddle of blood and puke. When he turned his head a little to check on the walkers they had killed he also noticed the stains on the guy and woman's shirt, indicating that they had been the ones to cause this mess, obviously having killed themselves in here.

Daryl just looked at the spot for a while and occasionally fixed his eyes on Murphy, who was just staring back at the spot with a strange look on his face, like he was lost in thoughts. The hunter just remained in his position for a while, car battery dangling in his hand, muscles tense under dirty and sweaty suntanned skin. He was still chewing on his lower lip, unsure what to do or what to say until he decided to raise the barrier again, on purpose, because he was only going to allow Connor to get this close to him as he was now, no one else.

"Come on" he just said, but it wasn't mean or angry, it was almost gentle even. He turned around and tried to head for the door when Murphy suddenly spoke up.

"He's such a fuckin idiot" he said quietly, and then moved the antifreeze away with an angry kick. "And 'm a fuckin idiot" he added, which made Daryl turn around and look at Murphy. For some reason he just knew that this was about Connor, because of the suicide topic and Murphy calling him an idiot because of that. Daryl smirked a little and snorted.

"You're twin bros, aren'tcha."

"Always getting his fuckin ass in trouble and hurt because 'a me, 'n all I did was say that much shit, and now he's..fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Murphy snapped and suddenly kicked the shelf hard, which almost made it topple over.

It just suddenly really hit Murphy. The whole thing, because now that everything had kind of calmed down after the burning craze with Terry he was actually allowed to let everything sink in. Connor _had_ it. This strange, new flu that had turned their entire apartment block into a bloody mess I less than 15 minutes, a disease that had killed a kid that had been fine the night before.

He was angry for so many reasons. Angry because Terry had betrayed him and tried to kill him, angry, because this wasn't the first time someone had tried to murder him although he hadn't even done anything to them, angry, because he'd been just as close to Patrick yesterday evening, but he was completely fine.

And he was angry with himself because Daryl was right, if he had stayed inside the car and given Daryl the opportunity to get the hell out of the surrounding herd of walkers then maybe they wouldn't have needed to run so many walkers over, then maybe their car wouldn't have given in and they would be back home already.

And he was angry because he knew that only because of all this mess did Connor have to wait for his medicine, because of him, because it had taken them almost the entire night to get to this gasstation and find a car. He was furious because Connor was probably suffering right now, maybe suffocating on his own blood and coughing his lungs out, Connor, this stupid idiot, who had once tried to take his own life because of _him_ just like these people in here had done it, Connor, who was probably sick because of him now, because he was always so fucking eager to protect him and who kept pushing his own fucking limits for him.

Connor, his fucking brother, who he had only just gotten back and didn't even know anymore, who he wanted to get to know again and who he loved so fucking much already. But all he had ever done for the past week was be a fucking stubborn idiot to him, always snapping at him and making his life hard.

What if this was fucking it, now? What if they were too late? What if Connor was dead because they had failed to get him the medicine I time? He was fucking tired of everything. People wanting to kill him, people getting or almost getting themselves killed trying to protect him, he was fucking tired of the possibility that maybe he could lose his brother and be alone all over again.

Murphy could see how Daryl was just standing there, car battery in his hand, staring at him with that surprised look on his face. It looked like the hunter was struggling to find the right words or say anything at all, and the Irishman hated that the guy was there in the first place. He had never been good at keeping his emotions inside and most of the time he didn't care about people seeing it or getting to feel his outbursts, but right now, he actually didn't want anyone to see it, certainly not Daryl.

And he damn as fuck didn't want to hear him say anything. The younger MacManus gritted his teeth a bit and breathed in sharply and angrily, fighting hard to keep the rest in. What he did instead, was take the plastic bag he had taken to collect food and other useful stuff and then simply started walking, past Daryl, heading for the door to get back to the car, where Wendy was already waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuddos and comments are love <3 Feel free to hate me :D


	26. Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloo. New chapter. I'm happy to tell you that I didn't have that much trouble writing it this time. That's the bright side. The dark side is that it's slightly fucked up? I know, I know, I'm a bad bad writer and I keep torturing my characters too much, but it's the apocalypse and it can't be butterflies and rainbows all the time. Besides, I gotta stick to the Walking Dead canon material ;D Anyway, I hope you're not too mad at me after reading this chapter, all I can say is that I promise you that once we got through all the mid season finale material, I'm gonna give you some more lovely Connaryl (lots)(maybe)(maybe not).
> 
>  
> 
> Hey, I wish I could tell you more about all the stuff I got planned, but I don't wanna spoil you, so sorryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
> 
> Also, I know that I'm kinda repeating myself with certain topics but I already killed the Governor and I'm crappy at writing original characters so one more sorry.

"No. No no no. Not fuckin again" Murphy said in shock as they looked straight ahead.

"This…."Wendy said but trailed off, simply because she was at loss of words for a moment.

Daryl just stared.

They had finally made it back to Woodbury. They had already looked forward to bringing their people medication and making them feel better again, Daryl even dared to say that he'd been hopeful for a moment.

But now this.

The herd was even bigger than the one they had seen when they had come back here, just about a week ago.  
It was basically the exact same scenario, only much much worse.

"I only just got fuckin rid of 'em!" Murphy shouted angrily and pointed at the herd, completely beside himself once again because they just couldn't get home and back to Connor without any constant obstacles in their path. "I mean what te fuck is that, we…."

"Shh" Daryl said angrily and stared at the herd, the stinking, large crowd of walkers that was piling up on their walls, the gate there, the one which they wanted to get back in through. But it was impossible. Murphy was right, he'd been able to lead most of the walkers away about a week ago, but this was nothing like a week ago. The herd was much much bigger than that previous one. It didn't just pile up on their gate and raised wall, the countless walkers were also scratching away on the walls of the buildings to the wall's left and right, trying to get in, surrounding the entire South side of Woodbury like a big cloud of decaying meat. There had to be at least a hundred walkers.

"It's got to be the herd we met earlier. On our way to Fort Valley. They must've tried to follow us and kept walking straight" Wendy suggested from behind them, making Daryl bite his lip and Murphy curse and kick the dashboard. "FUCK!" Murphy shouted and stared at the scenario in front of them, making one or two walkers with better hearing look up and then turn around so they could start staggering in their direction. "They just keep fuckin comin!" the younger MacManus added and started chewing on his lips as well, his mind racing with questions, looking for possible solutions.

He knew that he could probably lead a couple of those away again, kill some, get as close to them to pick them off like no one else could, but they had wasted far too much time on their trip to Fort Valley by now and he knew that Connor needed his medicine as soon as possible.

"It's like they know we're here. Like fish in a tank, locked up, waitin t'get eaten" Daryl snarled and felt nothing but disgust for these creatures, but at the same time, for the first time, he was actually a bit scared. Not of getting eaten himself because they were inside the car and far enough away, but he was scared for their town. He could see how the walls were shaking, making it hard for the two people on watch to really walk. He believed to see Maggie and Beth on the wall there, continuously stabbing the walkers with long sticks from their position high above the undead.

But he knew that they couldn't keep doing that forever. They had never really managed to reinforce their walls. They had gathered the materials and they had made their first plans, but then the sickness had hit. And it was exactly that what made it so scary. Half their town was sick or dead, the other half was either out here looking for supplies like them, or they were in there looking after the sick and the walls. They didn't have enough forces to do all that. Fight and kill the walkers, get rid of them so the corpses won't pile up and cause even more disease and some sort of ramp for the other walkers to walk up on. They didn't have enough people to reinforce the walls at the same time.

Daryl turned his head slightly to the left and saw that more walkers were staggering in the direction of the wall, drawn in of the almost deafening moaning and growling sounds of their fellows. Like he had said: like they could sense the alive ones in there.

Murphy was right.

_Fuck._

Daryl gripped the steering wheel tighter, considering what they should do. The walkers were covering the entire south wall of their town. It even looked like the herd was wrapping itself around the edges, the east and west walls. And if more of them kept coming and coming, it would only be a matter of days before they were getting surrounded. Locked inside a disease ridden town with people dying all around them, dying and turning, like a virus that was killing their cell from within and turning it into another killer itself. Possibly no real chance to get out here again, to get food.

He startled a bit when Murphy suddenly flinched and started moving like a madman, grabbing their bags and his weapons, reaching for the door.

"Use te car and try ta lure some of 'em away with noise. I'm gonna go in there, get Con and the others the medicine and then come back out here ta clear ye a path" he said and opened the door. Before he managed to get out though, Daryl suddenly grabbed his arm with a surprised "Leprechaun!" which accidentally escaped his mouth. He didn't want to call Murphy that because that nickname belonged to Connor, but for some reason it had just forced itself out because he was used to Connor making stupid self-sacrificial decisions like that, add the accent, and it was easy for Daryl to let that slip.

"What you gonna do, huh? Run at them and try to make it through that crowd? You suicidal?" he asked quickly, trying to avoid the topic.

"I got my fuckin ways, alright, why the fuck would you care, fuck off" Murphy snarled and tried to get out again, then Daryl suddenly remembered.

Last night. His trip with Connor, when they had circled to that bar.  
The secret tunnel that led outside. Connor had told him about how it had been Murphy who had found it.

"Wait! What if they follow you, dumbass, that hole ain't exactly covered with steel!"

"Why te fuck do ye think I just told ye ta start a fuckin distraction maneuver, fuck, ye rednecks really are fuckin schtupid! Get going! The sooner we get tha shit done, the better!" Murphy shouted and finally managed to get out, because he just couldn't sit still any longer. He needed to do something, he had handled herds of walkers before, he had managed to get out of Boston after all.

When Daryl called after him for a third time he nearly lost his shit and yelled an angry "WHAT?" at the hunter, which made even more walkers turn around and stagger in the direction of their car. Daryl stared at the younger MacManus for a moment, teeth gritted, mouth a hard, thin line. The hunter then reached for the back of his pants and sat up a little, so he could reach for the red rag there. He then threw it at Murphy, still looking at him.

"Use it'n cover your face. Some of those lamebrains could have it as well. Might be invincible to lamebrain-sitis, sure ain't immune to this shit that knocked your bro out."

Murphy took the rag and looked at it for a moment, feeling the material with his thumb, surprised by the action. He hadn't thought about this one, he usually wasn't that good about tiny details to keep himself protected, he was all about moving and getting it done with after all.

"Hurry up, dumbass. 'm tired of seein your goddamn ugly face. Put it on, good lord" Daryl said angrily and then turned the engine back on, to make Murphy understand that the game was on. The younger MacManus did as he was told and wrapped the rag around his mouth.

"What, wait, you're really just gonna stay out here?! We could use the car to run them over, don't.. that's not..!" Wendy tried to protest from behind Daryl, staring at Murphy with wide eyes. "'ve already done it before!" Murphy shouted and then threw the two bags with medication over his shoulder, looking in the general direction of Woodbury. More and more walkers were already staggering in their direction, snarling and growling, reaching out for them, only dark silhouettes against the flood lights of their town.

"This is crazy!" Wendy shouted but then Murphy just looked at Daryl, who stared back at him with a strange look on his face, until he just gave him a slight nod. Murphy pressed his lips together a little bit, understanding the message of that nod.

_Watch your ass and bring Connor the stuff he needs. You better hurry._

Murphy nodded right back and then turned around to start running.

A moment later, Daryl started honking the horn of their car like a madman, even driving right at the herd of walkers to get closer, to get their attention.

Murphy started running in the direction of the east wall, staring at the main entrance of their town from time to time. Maggie and Beth had noticed them by now, alerted by their never ending honking. Daryl steered the car towards the herd of walkers and then turned it around pretty close to the wall, using the time he was waiting for the walkers to catch up to also shout explanations at Maggie and Beth.

Murphy was getting closer and closer to their town as well, always running. He could also hear the terrifying sounds more and more, and to make it worse: actually see how _bad_ it already was. The walls were shaking. Some of the metal planks had already been ripped off the school busses they used for their walls, the metal stripped away, piece by piece, ripped off by greedy, dead hands.

Beth and Maggie were good enough at keeping their balance up there, but Murphy knew it was just a matter of time until at least one of the busses would gain enough momentum from the constant shaking, which would ultimately cause it to really topple over. He had seen it before with less walkers, he could see the cracks in the metal shielding they had nailed directly to the walls of the adjacent houses.

it wasn't going to hold forever.

The moment Murphy managed to run around the buildings to get to the east side of the town he was surprised to see that even more walkers were piling up. All around them, it seemed. There were fewer here since most of them had gathered on the main entrance, but they seemed to be coming from everywhere, stumbling out of the woods, coming from between houses of the abandoned areas of their town, like the large herd had partially split up some miles before their town and was only getting back together again, awaiting to be fed whatever was inside the steel and brick constructions.

It had to be because of all that chaos from earlier today.

The outbreak, the gunshots, people trying to get outside with their never ending yelling at each other and the honking of car horns like Daryl was still doing it right now. They were a town filled with people. They were too noisy. In the end, it would always come to that. He had seen it in Boston, in Augusta, in Savannah. No matter how safe something seemed to be, a military base, a hospital, or this group's former prison which he had seen earlier..no matter how safe a place seemed to be, sooner or later the dead were always going to catch up on them.

The younger MacManus spent quite some time picking walkers off the east wall, anything that was close enough to his secret way in and out. Daryl was right and he knew it. It had been so easy for him to find it and sneak out because it wasn't locked up like Fort Knox. If he wasn't careful he was going to lead all those walkers right in there with him. If they could make busses shake and topple over, busses that weighed tons, then it sure as hell wasn't going to be a problem for them to sneak inside this one as well.

Murphy tried his best to kill as many walkers as possible, and it didn't take too long and he was covered in blood and guts once again. He would just keep going and tried to cleanse the entire East wall if he could, but the truth was that he was exhausted and his crippled shoulder was so clogged up that he could hardly move anyway. Besides, he really needed to get the back inside Woodbury now, not just because it was getting heavier by the second, but also because he was worried sick about Connor by now.

He had encountered four other walkers with bleeding eyes in just a short amount of time. Out here. They all had obviously been killed by the same disease. He had seen way too many people die from this already, and a part of the younger MacManus twin was actually terrified to really enter their town at the same time. _What if he was too late? What if Connor had died simply because it had almost taken them an entire day to get here?_ If he looked closely, he could see that it was getting lighter by now. It had to be early morning, after their odyssey to Fort Valley and back, with the broken car, the thing with Terry, and now the ongoing struggle over here, too many hours had passed already.

 _What if Connor was dead when he got in there? Bleeding eyes and everything?_ About twenty hours must've passed since the initial outbreak, Murphy wondered. He had seen people die in less than four hours after showing first symptoms.

_No, no, no._

Murphy killed some walkers far more brutal than necessary simply because he was scared and angry, and when he nearly lost grip of his knife and couldn't move his arm anymore at all he finally decided to face his fear and go inside. He tried his best to cover the exit as good as he could, coming to the conclusion that they should probably lock it up for good as soon as they had managed to give their people their medicine and ease the walker situation.

As soon as he was back inside their town Murphy immediately started running again, completely out of breath by now with his injured head already pounding with pain. But he kept going, for Connor, even muttering his name like a sacred mantra over and over again as he jogged towards the building, praying to god that he wasn't too late.

It was then when he heard the gunshots. Coming from inside the building.

"Fuck..fuck..fuck. CONNOR!" Murphy yelled as good, getting back into sprinting, across main street, until he nearly ran right into the door.

Everything was repeating itself. Over and over again. It was a nightmare. In this situation right here, he really regretted his decision to flee Augusta about a month or two ago.

Murphy managed to get inside the building and started shouting for Connor once more, searching the dark hallways with wide eyes. The gunshot had come from somewhere upstairs so he ran for that, heart pounding, chest heaving.

He knew that it was some wishful thinking. Even if he had stayed in Augusta and let those doctors kill him for the sake of getting into his brain to find the cause of his immunity, even then there never would've been a cure for mankind and he knew it. But right now, he wished for nothing more than that. He was getting sick and tired of all this, people getting sick all the time, people dying and turning and killing other people and infecting them, causing even bigger herds of undead like the one that was piling up on their walls right now. He was sick and tired of the never ending cycle, sick and tired of seeing all the alive ones get decimated while the dead ones grew in numbers each day.

"CON!" Murphy yelped once again, helplessly searching the halls and rattling on a few doors since he didn't have a clue which room his sick brother was in, he had never been able to visit him, he had never been able to see him after the whole Terry mess and his breaking down.

He saw one walker down one of the corridors, or more the body of one which had been shot. He instantly rand down this corridor when he saw another pair of feet in the shadows but couldn't quite make out who they belonged to. _Please don't be Connor, please don't be Connor, please don't be Connor lying there_ , he thought as he ran for that pair of feet, and the run felt like the longest in his life. His heart seemed to momentarily stopped beating just like his breathing.

There were so many things he wanted to tell Connor, so many things he hated himself for right now. The fact that he had been such a fucking dick to his own brother for the past bunch of days, the fact that he had blocked any of Connor's efforts to apologize for something he wasn't even really guilty for. He was his fucking _twin_ brother, and he was only just starting to understand that bond again. He wanted Connor to know that although he was still mad at him he still utterly adored him already, that he loved him to bits _because_ he was his brother, he wanted him to know that he wanted to remember everything about them again, that he really wanted to get to know him again, that it wasn't fair if he just left him like that when they had only just found each other. Connor was his family. His everything in this fucked up world that was falling to pieces. He couldn't take another sudden and violent death like it had happened with Keith.

Murphy reached the body after what felt like hours of running down the corridor when actually, only a couple of seconds had passed.

"Conn, no no no…" he breathed and fell to his knees, only to open his eyes wide in shock.

He was staring at Glenn.

It was Glenn. Not Connor.

The Korean's was covered in blood, and Murphy only just now really realized that Sasha was there, too, coughing her lungs out, clutching to Glenn's chest as she tried to pump it.

"You….you gotta get….you gotta get help" she breathed under heavy coughs, and Murphy looked at the both of them in shock. It was looking really bad. It seemed like Glenn had passed out or was dead already, he didn't know what was going on. Murphy shakily and rapidly grabbed one of the bags and ripped it open, helplessly searching all the medical equipment they had brought from Fort Valley. He knew some stuff about the whole medicine thing, enough to keep himself alive and treat wounds, but he didn't know shit about any of this.

The younger MacManus immediately looked up again, his eyes scanning the dark floor, lingering on shot corpse of the walker that was lying there.  
It looked like either Sasha or Glenn had shot the man before he had managed to seriously injure them, but the whole scenario still confused the hell out of Murphy.

"I..I don' know what 'm…where te fuck's me brother? Where's Hershel, the Doctor? Where's…."

"GLENN!" Maggie suddenly interrupted him and made both him and coughing Sasha look up.

Hershel's daughter came running at them as well, eyes wide with terror and fear. She fell to her knees right next to Murphy and reached for her fiance's head, trying to hold him steady.

"We heard gunshots, what happened?" she asked in utter shock and Sahsa tried to explain everything, but then Maggie suddenly widened her eyes even more.

"Oh my god, he's turning blue!" Maggie yelled in shock and then looked at Murphy and Sasha with wide eyes.

"We gotta help him now, hold him down! What did you find?! Please tell me you found something!"

"I…I don' fuckin know, I got this bag and I just…" Murphy yelled back, just as terrified and scared of everything. Before he could explain himself any further Maggie suddenly almost ripped the bags from Murphy's arms and shoulder and started searching it, until she found a strange tube and bag valve mask.

The younger MacManus really wanted to ask her were his brother and her father was, why no one else was here to help them, but the whole scenario was simply to hectic and chaotic, which rendered him speechless. His heart was pounding heavily and he feared he could have a heart attack from all the sudden stress, but he forced himself to concentrate because he could see and feel that Glenn was going to die in their arms if they didn't help him.

Maggie suddenly approached her fiance's mouth with the tube and Murphy widened his eyes a bit, scared of what could happen.

"Do ye even know what yer doing? D'ye think it's a good…"

But Maggie had already shoved the tube inside Glenn's throat which made him gag and cough violently, making him sound like he was suffocating.

"Hold him steady!" she commanded and the quickly applied the BVM to the tube, her hands shaking violently with fear. The younger MacManus did as he was told, eager to help but in the end, all he could do was watch in horror. Then Glenn suddenly stilled and relaxed when his fiancé started pumping the bag in a steady rhythm. From one moment to the next the whole situation suddenly calmed down, and although Maggie was still shaking and even crying a bit she kept pumping in a steady rhythm and leaned down a bit, to look her obviously terrified fiancé in the eyes.

"You're going to be okay" she breathed, trying to soothe him and calm him down.

A moment later other people suddenly came running for them, Carol, the new guy Bob, who quickly ran for still coughing Sasha's aid.

"We heard gunshots, what happened?" Carol asked as she looked at Maggie, who was still whispering calming words to Glenn.

"Jim turned…while we..were trying to look for…for the others. He managed to…he managed to get out. Glenn shot him and collapsed" Sasha forced out under heavy coughs, then Bob tried to stop her from talking so he could take care of her. Now that everything had calmed down Murphy finally knew how to move and talk again as well. He immediately got back on his feet and turned around in horror, to look at Sasha. He even tried to grab her by her arm.

"Where's Connor? Why…why wasn' Hershel her ta help ye?!" he asked, terror written all over his face because he was getting very bad vibes from all this.

"She needs to rest now. Here take this" Bob told Sasha to stop her from talking because it only made her coughing worse, but the former firefighter refused and tried to sit up a bit so she could talk to Murphy. She didn't get to speak because then they suddenly heard an incredible amount of gunshots coming from outside this time, like at least two people were firing machine guns.

Everyone widened their eyes in shock and then it was Murphy who was first to get back up on his feet. He ran inside the apartment Glenn and Sasha had collapsed in front of and had a terrified look out of the window to see what was going on.

He almost wished he hadn't done it.

He could see the chaos unfold downstairs, not in slow motion like it was happening in the movies, no, this was happening rapidly. He could see Rick and Carl down there along with Beth and another two people from Woodbury as they frantically tried to press all their weight against one of the school busses that was now standing at a dangerous angle. It looked like it was only moments from toppling over, and the younger MacManus could even hear Rick shout "IT'S GONNA GIVE IN!"

And then it happened. Rick, Carl, Beth and one of the two guys barely managed to get away when the bus finally gave in and did topple over, burying the other guy right underneath it. There was an incredibly loud sound of creaking and moaning metal as half the metal planks they had used to cover the busses with broke under the sheer force and weight, ripping parts of the wall open and sticking out like sharp knives.

The walkers on the other side immediatly started climbing all over each other, trying hard to get across the bus that was now lying on its side, making the wall only half as high as it had been before. Rick and Carl started shooting with their machine guns yet again but were forced to back off more and more, as the first bunch of walkers managed to climb over the bus and fell inside their area that had once been secure.

"Shit..shit..SHIT!" Murphy yelled and immediately started running.

"What's going on?!" Maggie asked in shock as Bob, Sasha and Carol looked at the younger Irishman in horror.

"The wall just gave in!" Murphy yelled back and started sprinting, past the doors where more turned former sick patients were already banging on, trying to break out as well. On his way down the stairs Murphy suddenly ran right into Daryl, causing the both of them to fall down with a surprised huff.

"There you are!" the hunter yelled. He and Wendy had managed to get into their town through the roof route, the one they had used before and after their trip to the big spot. They had seen the chaos unfold from up there, and he had known that there was no other choice but to get the younger MacManus with his immunity on it as well.

"The wall just fuckin gave in, we gotta hurry!" Murphy yelled, untangling their limbs and then clumsily trying to get back on his feet.

"I know dumbass,, where are the others, where's Connor?!" Daryl shouted back, in just about the same frantic panic mode as all the others.  
Bob and Carol ran past them while they still tried to get back up from their crash.

"I don' know, let's just lock te place up and get fuckin goin!" Murphy simply answered and started running all over again, leaving Daryl all alone in the hallway. The hunter stared up the stairs for a moment, considering what the fuck he should do now.

He was out of breath, his heart was pounding and he was more than scared. He didn't have a clue if Murphy had brought Connor the medicine and he really wanted to make sure his friend was alright, but at the same time the noises outside told him that everything was escalating pretty quickly. More and more walkers seemed to pour into their streets, the sound of screaming and rapid gunfire getting more and more frequent.

Daryl stared up the stairs and almost ran up them because Connor mattered the most to him, but in the end, he decided not to do it. He cursed himself for doing this to his friend, cursed himself for not checking in on him and making sure he was still alive first, but the truth was that if Connor was dead by now, he didn't want to know in this very moment because he didn't know what he was going to do otherwise.

So he finally grabbed all the weapons he had and ran for the door to face the chaos outside, slamming the door shut behind himself to keep the walkers away from the sick, from his friend. And when he finally turned around to look down the street he was absolutely petrified by what he saw. More and more walkers were climbing over the bus. More and more walkers were stumbling up their formerly so clean main street.

Woodbury was getting overrun.

* * *

Most of the time he was half out of it, the sweat running down his face as he repeatedly blinked and tried to stop it from running into his eyes. The fever seemed to burn him up, but for some reason, after surviving the fever after two walker bites, he was almost used to the feel of it.

Connor let his head hang most time, staring at his own dirty, bloody jeans, wondering what the fuck was up with this constantly getting tied to a chair thing. The good part that he was actually quite used to that as well because of that. His uncle and family had taught him a lot about fighting torture back in Ireland. He knew how to handle it, and he had been through it a couple of times simply because of his and Murphy's work as the saints.

He was actually glad that Murphy wasn't here this time, though, that he was actually alone in here, with no shot Rocco or no fear of seeing someone else get shot in front of him. It felt like they were trying to use the whole isolation in complete darkness and inside in incredibly hot room as another form of 'torture' to try and get more information out of him.

He knew the deal. No food, no water, no idea where he was, what was going on or what was going to happen.  
It was supposed to scare him shitless. Psychological warfare.

The truth was though, that it was anything _but_ torture. It was actually quite calming. If it wasn't for the fever and constant coughing of course. It had gotten pretty hard for him to breathe by now, not just because of the flu but also because they had beat him up fairly well, the first method anyone always tried to get some words out of someone.

Connor had been laughing through it.

It wasn't like it hadn't hurt. Of course it had been painful as fuck. He was sure that some bones must've been broken during the procedure, the exact thing that one guy had tried to achieve anyway. They didn't just want to get more information on Woodbury from him, didn't just want to know the exact location. They had also expressed their desire to take some sort of revenge on him, because apparently, he had accidentally killed this guy Aaron during their ambush, when he had continuously slammed his face into the car door.

He'd been told that this member of the group had suffocated on his own blood because of that.

One of the reasons why Connor had been laughing. It was kind of funny in many ways. First of all, the fucker had deserved to die after what he and Daryl had witnessed. Justice served right, he had told them under his amused laughter, because he was proud of himself for taking out evil scumbags even now. Then it had also been funny because it kinda felt like the same thing was happening to him now as well, although it was a sad kind of funny.

The flu was making it harder and harder for him to breathe. His mouth wasn't just bloody from the beating but also from his inflamed lungs. He was terrified of ending up like Patrick, drowning in his own blood, and maybe this was the reason why he was laughing, to try and calm himself down, but in the end it was still really funny because he was sure of one thing:

He was going to take out these fuckers with him. He had told them that multiple times during their first attempts to get answers from him through the induction of pain, but at some point, it felt more like Connor had turned the tables on them instead, turning it into some mindfuck of his own. He told them about the flu, what it did to people and that he had it, he told them to go right ahead and keep beating, cutting and strangling him or whatever, to get covered with his blood as much as possible so they could all get a piece of the flu cake.

They had kept going for a while, trying to be tough, the kind of thing Connor was already used to. But then he managed to hit a real nerve, something that just made him laugh at the absurdity of it all even more.

What had really freaked them out and made them kind of flee under loud cursing and screaming had been when they had seen his own bite scars, right after he had managed to bite one of them. They had seen the one on his shoulder after trying to strangle answers out of him, or the scar on his arm from the first bite when they threatened to cut his artery's and bleed him out if he didn't answer.

He gave them unwanted answers instead, told them about how he had been bitten by walkers and was infected, a carrier, a ticking, biological weapon and time bomb and that it had been a foolish mistake to take him here.

Connor was all alone in here right now and it still made him chuckle, but it was a dry and slightly upset kind of sound, now that he was alone after all. It was one thing keeping up an act and being all strong to withstand torture and pain. He was actually really good at that. Getting his mind somewhere else, believing in god's protection, laughing at amateurish deeds.

But it was a completely different thing when there was no one to watch his act. The one he had to put up because of one reason after all:

He was scared.

A lot. By the minute.  
The harder it got to breathe, the dizzier he got.

He was really tired for one thing. He didn't know how many hours had passed, he didn't know if it was night or day out, he didn't know much, except for one thing. He wasn't allowed to sleep in. He was doing pretty bad, no matter how much he fought it. If he slept in now he was probably going to die.

It wasn't just the beatings and constant fighting that had weakened him. The flu was still getting worse. Daryl and Murphy had gone out there looking for medicine for him. Connor smirked tiredly, no matter how scared he was. Maybe that was the reason why he was getting weaker. Not the fever, not the beatings and all that stuff. Maybe Terry had managed to do something to Murphy out there. Maybe something terrible had happened to Murphy, and the same was happening to him now because of their twin connection.

He also smiled at the thought of Daryl, because he could picture his reaction to all this. People had to know about his and Hershel's disappearance by now. Daryl had to know by now. He could see his reaction, he could almost hear him shout all sorts of things at him, like he always did when he was worried about him. Daryl would never admit that he cared a lot about him, but they both knew he did.

Maybe it was a good thing that Daryl wasn't here right now to see all this, although a part of Connor really wished for his friend to be here. He started chuckling to himself again until he ended up coughing, leaning his head back and staring at the dark ceiling as he tried to concentrate on battling the flu.

 _Why_?! _Why the fuck now?! Why_ _ **you**_ _?!_

He wondered the same thing. Why him? Always fucking him. But the truth was that he didn't want anyone else to take his place. Of course he wanted to go home. Of course he just wanted to tell these sick fucks right here where Woodbury was, so they could take him with them there, maybe as hostage, as leverage, although he knew about the truth.

He was dead no matter what.

He didn't want to take anyone else down with him. Not their town, not Daryl, not Murphy, not any of Rick's people.

He wasn't going to trade places. He wasn't going to tell them shit.

Connor once again clenched his fists and tried getting his tied wrists free, he even considered breaking his still fragile left hand all over again for the sake of breaking free, but this was different. This time there were no handcuffs, just some tight rope. Rope that had the ability to adjust to the pressure, to extend and ajdust itself, unlike metal cuffs. One of the many reasons why he usually liked rope after all. Now it was just a curse, and it felt like it was cutting off the blood flow in his hands which were sweaty and shaking, but at the same time felt incredibly cold. If he closed his eyes and concentrated long enough he cold focus on that cold and imagined it flowing all the way up to his feverish, burning head and throat.

Connor even swallowed hard and then coughed again but it was useless, he still felt like shit.

Maybe he was getting a bit desperate by now. Not just because he was getting worse by the minute, but also because he didn't know what they were doing to Hershel. Or what they were going to do to his people, should they somehow manage to find out where Woodbury was. He tried to blend everything out.

The pain, the fever, the worry, he tried hard to concentrate on possibilities and ideas, his always working mind trying hard to come up with a plan.

_How was he going to get out of here because either the flu or those people killed him?_   
_How was he going to flee the place, get back to his people and get himself some treatment for the flu without those people following him right back home?_   
_Were the others looking for him and Hershel? Daryl and Murphy had to be looking for him. What if they got caught? What if they…?_

No matter how hard he tried to fight it, his mind just started drifting. he'd been taught this kind of coping mechanism as well. Think of something nice. Think of something strong. He pictured all sorts of things, thought about his brother and best friend storming in here like whirlwinds, like when he, Rick and Daryl had saved Glenn and Maggie from the Governor a couple of months ago.

His mind drifted to better times, he tried to imagine what could happen if only he got out of here, if only they managed to get through all this. The possibilities, all three of them being together, maybe his feverish, slightly crazed mind even told him to just get the fuck on with it and tell Daryl how he truly fucking felt.

His otherwise strong defenses gave in for just a moment and he was well aware that he was fucking being girly about the whole thing right now, but fuck it. He was desperate. He was scared. He was tired. He wanted to be weak. He wanted to go home and just get some sleep, get some rest, forget about everything. He wanted to be with his brother, enjoy his presence because it was way too fucking early for him to die now, after he had found his brother only about a week ago. He wanted to get out of here and be with Daryl, enjoy how their relationship was developing because it was way too fucking early for him to die now, after he and Daryl had only just got started with this new thing, when they were only just getting used to the true essence of their relationship.

Connor immediately forced himself not to cough and gritted his teeth so hard he feared they were going to crack under the pressure and then pulled on the ties as hard as he could, felt the fabric of the rope cut into his wrists. His entire body was burning with pain anyway, the fever and flu almost making it feel numb, indifferent to the pain.

He just wanted to get fucking out of here, but no matter how hard he pulled…

He was too weak already. All that was left was darkness, pain, the memories, his faith.

* * *

Connor didn't know what was going on for a moment as his head snapped back up, eyes fluttering because the light in front of him was blinding him. He blinked a couple of times but it was rather slow because he was sleepy, and it took him a moment to understand that he had passed out at some point. He awkwardly tried to sit upright and raised his head, even forcing himself to smile at his hostage-takers, so he could immediately put up the act again, showing no weakness although he was weak beyond proportions now.

His defenses grumbled a bit the moment he saw what was going on this time.

The group of three men and one woman were forcing a stumbling Hershel to enter the room they kept the Irishman in, and it was the sight of the old man that made Connor unable to keep up his act for just a moment.

Although it looked like they hadn't been as hard on the old man as they had been on Connor, Hershel still didn't look good at all. He was bloody as well and had a few bruises, but even now some sort of pride and wisdom seemed to radiate from him. Hershel looked a bit shocked by the state Connor was in as well, and they quickly exchanged knowing looks, trying to communicate somehow and see if the other was right.

Connor feared that he already knew what this was going to be about and it scared him shitless, but he still tried to come across as tough and level-headed as possible. He wanted to ask them what was going on but refused to satisfy their sick need for dominance and power over others, he especially didn't want to give the woman another reason to be even more fucked up. She was really the weirdest of them all and seemed to find immense pleasure in the most fucked up things, constantly incredibly giggly, constantly moving about like a former twisted drug addict, maybe she was even a bit insane, he didn't know, all he knew was that she crept him the fuck out.

She and her boyfriend, who seemed to be the leader of the group. Even now the guy seemed to utterly adore this whacko woman who was holding Hershel in place with her large knife to his throat, they were grinning at each other for a moment, flirting with each other, obviously turned on by this sick mess they had caused, the blood they had forced out of their captives.

The leader, who was apparently named Derek, eventually stopped looking at his girlfriend and Hershel and then approached Connor, a thoughtful look on his face as he carefully knelt down in front of the Irishman and looked at nothing particular for a moment.

"Look, I don't wanna do this buddy, but you're kinda not leaving me any other choice here" he began, even placing a hand on Connor's knee to pat it as if they were good friends. Connor pulled a face in angry disgust and tried to move away.

"Fuck you" he snarled and then started moving again, trying to free himself and then just looking at the rest of the group.

"Just let te bloke go, alright? The old man's got nothin ta do with this. If ye gotta take revenge fer ye buddy then go right fuckin ahead, bring it on, but leave 'im te fuck outta this" Connor said angrily, voice hoarse from all his coughing and although it kept breaking he still sounded rather determined and dangerous. The Irishman kept fighting the rope, trying to break free even now, which just made the woman called Jessica start laughing all over again while one of the other two men, the guy who had obviously been a friend of dead Aaron, started walking, obviously ready to beat the Irishman up again for being so cheeky.

But Derek raised his hand and made the other member of his group stop in his tracks, while the leader continued to look at Connor, examining him with a curious look on his face. He and Connor had only met once before and that briefly at the very beginning of all this being captured mess, the beating and trying to get answers thing had been mostly done by other guys instead. But now Derek was right here, calmly examining Connor, still looking rather dangerous. The guy seemed to be calm, collected, maybe even smart. The more dangerous type compared to his violent and loud allies who were usually pretty easy to get. A comparison, which the Irishman certainly didn't like at all.

"You see, this isn't just about Aaron anymore,….what's your name again?"

"Fuck yerself with a rusty pole's my fuckin name, now let 'im go and handle that shit like a man, you piece of shit" Connor snarled, now simply incredibly angered by the whole situation. He couldn't even think straight anymore because he was so tired, weak and simply sick, and although he knew it was a stupid move to keep mocking them, he simply had to keep it up to show that he wasn't going to tell them shit.

Derek just continued to stare at Connor until he calmly said "Jess", which immediately made Connor widen his eyes a bit more. A second later he heard Hershel whimper and then even yelp a bit, as Jess proceeded to start cutting at the right side of his neck, causing it to bleed, getting closer and closer to his throat.

For a moment Connor forced himself not to say anything, although he watched the scenario in horror, which he couldn't hide. He knew if he was going to give in now he was just going to make it worse, the only way to keep both him and Hershel alive was _not_ to say anything at all. Because if they did, they were both dead and they knew it.

He felt incredibly sorry for the old man and really wanted to call out, develop some crazy supernatural powers like he had somehow managed to do it with the toilet back in the nineties when Murphy had been kidnapped, to break free and rescue Hershel from this torture.

But the truth was that this wasn't about Murphy, that he wasn't strong like that anymore, and that he wouldn't stand a chance against them anyway. He managed to keep his mouth shut for about three seconds, trembling under the sheer pressure of trying to stay strong through this mess, but in the end the noises Hershel made kind of broke his will. He knew it was fucked up and unfair towards Hershel but he had been trying to test them, see if they would really pull it through or if they were just being amateurs, but now it honestly looked like they were going to cut the old man's throat.

And it were the noises Hershel made that forced the saner part of Connor's brain to try and think what he'd do if this was Murphy and not Hershel. He was split seconds away from finally calling out to stop them, thinking that they obviously weren't bluffing anymore, when Derek suddenly called out and simply and calmly told Jessica to stop, which she immediately did, although she kinda looked like she didn't want to. The woman was giggling again, like she was once again turned on by the whole, fucked up thing.

Derek eventually smiled as well and then started chuckling, which made Connor look at him in sheer disgust.

"I'm gonna kill you" the Irishman snarled, matter of factly, looking right in the other man's eyes. He was different than both his friend and brother in that regard. Murphy and Daryl would've lost their shit by now, probably start kicking and yelling at their attackers, quick-tempered and violent the both of them were. But Connor was very different in that regard, he knew that the kind of stuff like this was useless and hollow, the reaction twisted fuckers like those right here usually wanted. Wild, aggressive threats weren't going to scare them, quite the opposite, they seemed to get them off.

No, he needed to serve them the right kind of fear once again. Just like he'd been taught back in Ireland, just like he'd been taught by his own father.  
Quiet and calm was dangerous. Serious was scary. Serious meant the truth.

"As soon as 'm getting outta here, and 'm tellin ye, 'm gonna get outta here, I'm gonna blow yer brains out with yer own fuckin gun" Connor said, never stopping his staring at Derek, who continued to look right back at Connor.

For a split second the Irishman believed to see a flash of actual fear in the other man's eyes. But it was happening way too fast and subtle. They were kind of made from the same cloth and they both knew it, turning the whole procedure into a whole new psychological battle of their own, something which excluded all the other people in the room.

But then Derek suddenly started chuckling again and pointed at Connor.

"They're right. I like you."

Connor blinked, momentarily surprised by the statement. Derek just continued to smirk at him and then pointed at Hershel and Jessica.

"Two inches away from your friend's carotid artery, and you don't bat an eyelash. You know, most of the time when we do stuff like that, people would have reached their ugly crying limit by now and start bargaining, pleading for their mommies….all sorts of crap.."

"Remember that one cutiepie who shat his pants?" Jessica asked and started laughing, just like the other man who snorted. "Shame, I thought he was a keeper, he was cute" the woman added, still giggling to herself and pressing her knife tighter to Hershel's throat who was gasping for breath but staring at Connor with wide eyes, shaking his head whenever they made eye contact.

It was obvious that the old man didn't want to give the location away just as much as Connor didn't want to do it. His daughters were back in Woodbury after all, and they sure as hell seemed to matter to him a whole lot more than the Irishman, just like Murphy and Daryl mattered more to Connor than Hershel did. No matter how much they hated to admit it. They cared about each other because they were part of the same group, but in the end, family always came first.

"They all break, but you didn't yet" Derek observed, eyeing Connor like he was some cow at an auction, not an actual person. Then the leader of the group suddenly got up and started walking a bit, still right in front of Connor, whose eyes flicked back and forth between him and Hershel, mind racing with possible escape plans although he couldn't come up with one. He still tried to get rid of the ties behind his back, not moving that much anymore to keep them from seeing him.

Right now he didn't even care anymore if he broke bones or tore a hand off, all he knew was that he needed to get out of here. Now. Free Hershel, stop this madness. He tried to fake interest in the conversation in the meantime, keeping a steady eye out on the others, trying to check if they could see what he was doing behind his back.

"I was gonna beat it out of the old man, but he didn't break either, you know" Derek muttered and then looked at Hershel, who stared back at him, not backing off either. "You're one tough son of a bitch. I need more people like you."

Derek walked around some more until he came to a halt in front of a wall, facing it, obviously thinking about it.

"Trouble is, we don't have any space for old people in our fair little town of Woodbury."

"Just listen to me, our town is sick, you don't want to go in there, we can.." Hershel immediately spoke up, alarmed by the fact that their hostage takers already knew the name of their town, thinking that maybe Connor had sold them out. He didn't want these people to go to their town, didn't want them to find Maggie and Beth or little Judith and all the others.

Connor immediately wanted to speak up as well as the true meaning of those words finally hit him as well, but he never got to speak anything out, because then a sudden loud and abrupt gurgling sound interrupted him.

The Irishman turned his head in Hershel's direction in horror, only to catch the last glimpses of Jessica's knife slitting his throat wide open, causing a gush of blood to spray out of the wound. Hershel and Connor stared at each other in utter shock, eyes wide open, as the Irishman saw the life force die in the old man's eyes. He could still hear the disgusting dripping and spraying of blood and the couple of gurgling sounds that escaped the severed windpipe and throat, then Hershel Greene was silenced for ever.

But Connor wasn't. He started screaming like a madman.

"NO! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" he screamed at the top of his aching inflamed lungs, completely forgetting about his cold, the never-ending urge to cough. From one second to the next he turned into a complete animal, which only got worse when Jessica just wouldn't stop but instead, went all the way through, hacking and cutting at the old man's neck until a final blow beheaded the Irishman's old friend.

Connor wouldn't stop screaming and kicking, almost making the chair he was tied to topple over. For about a minute the entire group ignored him though as the two men grabbed Hershel's headless body to drag it out while Jessica just stood there, bloody head still in her hand, holding it by Hershel's grey hair. She looked at it for a moment like it was some beautiful piece of jewelry, then she proceeded to look at raging Connor and started laughing and giggling like a madwoman, obviously amused by the whole thing. She even tried to get closer to Connor, holding the severed head out in front of her as she approached the Irishman, but then Derek suddenly stopped her.

"Let him turn and store the head. We're gonna use it later" he just said matter of factly and Jessica immediately looked disappointed, because she had obviously wanted to torture the blonde Irishman some more with the sheer look of it. Derek noticed her little pout and immediately smiled, because fuck did he love this twisted woman to bits. He approached her and gave her a loving kiss to soothe her.

"You did well babe. We're gonna have some more fun later" he assured her and then sent her off with a slap to her ass, obviously taking his time and letting Connor yell his burning lungs out some more. He was used to this sort of reaction and he couldn't blame the guy right here. No one was able to get through this, no matter how tough. He let him have his sweet screamer time, the kind of thing they loved to hear anyway.

Once Jessica had disappeared with Hershel's head as well Derek finally approached Connor, carefully avoiding any areas the Irishman could try to use and kick, scratch or bite him. He was actually quite impressed by the man's strength and liveliness. Here the Irishman was, obviously not in a good shape, sick, beat up, tortured some, but the light, the fire had never gone out inside of him.

Derek grabbed the chair and cautiously and calmly positioned it again, ignoring Connor's countless death threats, insults and violent attempts to break free and kill him. The leader of the group eventually walked around the man and then bent down a little bit, using the piece of cloth his friends had previously used to strangle the guy with to actually gag and silence him because his screaming was becoming slightly annoying by now. He then carefully bent down so they could look each other in the eye and placed a hand on the Irishman's shoulder, enjoying how he tried to flinch away from the touch and headbutt him.

"Relax…relax, man" Derek said and finally gave in to a little sick chuckle. He patted Connor's shoulder once more and smiled. "Did you really think this was about the name of your town? This is Cowetta County, buddy. We spent a year here, we know pretty much all about the area. When my guys found you around that little fire of yours, did you really think we weren't going to check out your immediate surroundings? We got maps, we got locals, we got scouts and cars, I can't believe you fell for that interrogation crap."

"Fffng ygung" Connor shouted against the gag that silenced him, mumbling other words and threats along with it that Derek could still understand but which only made him smirk even more.

"It's okay, it's okay. You passed our little test. You see, this whole location question and keeping you here was just to check you out. I was gonna drop you along with old guy the moment we found your little town, but Jess wanted to keep you so I just had to give it a go… I mean have you seen her? Damn, there's nothin I wouldn' do for this chick right there" Derek explained himself and then pointed a finger at Connor with a proud grin, patting his shoulder once more.

"Didn't believe in it at first, but you really did sell me when you wouldn't just ask us to stop hurting your old friend. You got some balls of steel. I like it. I'm sure we can make use of you."

Connor wouldn't stop yelling against the gag, wouldn't stop kicking and struggling, which only got worse when Derek placed his other hand on his other shoulder as well and made it just worse, when he started massaging his shoulders and tried to make it look even more like they were best buddies, trying to get him to relax.

The Irishman had never been this disgusted in his entire life, and his tough guy act and trying to withstand the psychological torture and be on top of it was completely forgotten. He could still see the blood on the floor, still saw the images of Hershel getting beheaded right in front of his eyes, an imagery that had completely broken him and turned him into nothing but a violent, furious animal. His wrists were bleeding from his struggle and trying to break free, his muscles were tense with sheer aggression but Derek, the gag and his sudden intense coughing fit kept him in place, almost seemed to suffocate him.

"What I need you to do now, is play along with us, pay your little town a visit and play your part. And hey, I promise you, if you play nice and all goes well, no one's gonna get hurt. You and your town in exchange for your people's lives. I'm sorry about the old man, but hey, you need to get the message, and so do they. We want them all to be nice and surrender. We gotta save the ammo. Going in there guns blazing all the time's just not worth it. And judging from the looks of it, your town's pretty big. Maybe we can keep some more people while we're at it, the women for example. Someone's gotta keep them protected after all, hm" Derek said and then winked at Connor, only to finally let go of him.

He then gave him an almost playful and not too hard slap to his check as some sort of fucked up goodbye message and then turned around to head for the door, leaving the Irishman alone in the room all over again, leaving him to a constant repetition of the images of Hershel dying right in front of him, the blood on the door and floor, the spot he was forced to keep looking at now.


	27. Ultimatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I knowwww. Still not enough Connaryl. But you're getting some interaction in this chapter. So we've reached the mid-season finale stuff. Just think of all the sweet, delicious hurt-comfort material you're gonna get sooner or later. Maybe. Ha. Thanks for all the comments and kuddos and stuff! Keep them coming!

**14 months ago…**

_They found him in a church. The irony. As if someone was mocking them. Reminding them of their silly society that was long since gone. Prayers, believing in gods no one had ever seen._ _No wonder most of them idiots are dead._ _Daryl's past had made it pretty clear that there was no such thing as god. He'd been raised to survive a cold winter without any of that luxury nonsense. He'd grown up outside. Field work and hunting was all he had ever known._ _Look who's still alive._ _He hardly saw a priest or saint anywhere now._

_They ran for the church when the bells started ringing. Maybe there was someone alive ringing them, they thought, maybe even Sophia ringing them herself. Maybe she was hiding in there, somewhere, waiting for them to rescue her. Daryl really wanted to find that little girl. When they kicked the door open they were greeted by the awful stench of rotting flesh. There were corpses lying on the ground with flies circling them and slowly tearing them apart._

_The men gasped when they saw someone kneel in front of the altar. All three of them pointed their hatches and knives at his head as they tiptoed and snuck up on him, hoping to strike him dead before he noticed them. When they got closer they realized that something seemed..._ _wrong_ _. He still wasn't moving. He wasn't groaning or smelling like all the other walkers. Shane was just about to strike him down when Rick grabbed his hand to stop him. It was then when Daryl heard it too. There weren't any groans or moans like they were used to hear from the geeks. They could hear a prayer. That man was alive and_ _praying._

_Now that Daryl took a closer look at him he noticed that, although the man was covered in blood, his jeans and pea coat weren't torn at all. His clothes were dirty and worn out, but they didn't look like someone had been trying to tear him to shreds. The man was kneeling in front of the altar with his head down, his shoulder long hair covering his face and making it impossible to see it. Rick approached the man carefully, glanced at Shane and Daryl and nodded._

**now….**

Daryl was staring at the man with wide eyes. Saw him.  
Bloody, dirty, battered, almost dead.

He was right in front of him now. The irony. As if someone was mocking him. Reminding him of his early bad thoughts where he'd been thinking about beating Connor bloody and killing him over this. Once again reminding him that there was no god, no supernatural protector. All those idiots who had always believed in god, they'd been the ones to get either killed or hurt the most in this fucked up world. Hurt and close to getting themselves killed. Like the man in front of him now.

There couldn't be a god. Daryl was sure of it. Because if there were one, then how could _this_ be happening?

They'd started running the moment they had heard the gunshots. Maybe it were Connor and Hershel, they'd thought, finally coming back after being gone all night. Waiting to be let back inside, shooting the last couple of walkers out there, the lurkers they had missed during the never-ending battle and trying to keep Woodbury standing. Daryl really wanted to believe that this was Connor coming back, that there was no need to freak out and go out there to find him again, maybe even dead, bloody eyes, choked on his own blood, killed, by the flu.

When they climbed on top of the wall they were once again greeted by the stench of decaying flesh and blood. There were corpses lying around all over the street in front of what was left of their walls, with flies circling their bodies with a never-ending buzzing sound, slowly tearing their prey apart. The people from Woodbury had never gotten the chance to clean up their mess, because now they were facing something _far worse_.

Every one of the few standing survivors who had managed to climb the wall either gasped in shock or ripped their eyes wide open in pure horror, freezing in place. It all seemed so wrong. They'd thought that they had managed to defeat their worst enemy so far. And yet here they were. Facing _them_. A large group of maybe 30-40 men and women. Once again piling up on their fragile walls.

Military trucks.  
Heavy machine guns.  
A tank.

Connor.

He wasn't moving or struggling, he wasn't trying to talk his hostage-takers into anything at all. He was just staring right back at Daryl and Murphy. Murphy, who immediately wanted to jump off the wall to start shooting and screaming, but Daryl placed a hand on his chest to stop him. It was then when Murphy finally seemed to notice it, too.

The blade that was placed right on Connor's neck.

 _This can't be happening. This isn't how I wanted this stupid fuck to come back,_ Daryl thought in utter shock, swallowing hard.

He clenched his fists, and his teeth were about to crack because he was grinding them so hard, his muscles were getting more and more tense the more the whole sight of it really sunk in.

Connor was kneeling there, in front of one of the military trucks. Covered in blood. His clothes were dirty and a bit torn, indicating that although no walkers seemed to have bitten him again, someone had done a whole lot worse to him. His head was slightly bowed because he was obviously exhausted, sick and in pain, with dark, swollen bruises covering his face, arms, practically every inch of his body. It was almost impossible for them to even recognize him, because he was in a terrible state.

Although Daryl saw how Rick walked forward and started talking to that pile of strangers who had obviously tortured their friend, the hunter didn't take note of anything that was being said or done. He couldn't. All he could feel was the tension Murphy was radiating right beside him, how tense his muscles were where Daryl's arm connected with his chest to keep him back so he couldn't screw this up.

Daryl couldn't hear anything, do anything, think anything.

He just stared at Connor's battered figure with wide eyes, his best friend who was bloody, dirty, battered, almost dead.

* * *

**earlier**

When Daryl finally turned around to look down the street he was absolutely petrified by what he saw. More and more walkers were climbing over the bus.  
More and more walkers were stumbling up their formerly so clean main street.

Woodbury was getting overrun.

Daryl did the first thing he could. He grabbed one of the benches that were aligned down main street and dragged it in front of the door with exerted grunts, hoping to make it even harder for walkers to get in and most importantly…for Connor and the others to get out of the building they used to keep the infected in.

Another string of very loud and fast gunshots startled the hunter a bit and made him turn around to see how the situation was. At least thirty walkers had managed to get inside by now, with more of them climbing over the bus and the other bus being only a little while away from toppling over as well. The hunter could see Carol, Tyreese, Rick and Carl fighting the walkers, with both members of the Grimes family shooting their heavy machine guns. Tyreese and Carol were obviously running for the armory, too, desperate to get as much fire power as they possibly could.

"Shit" Daryl gasped and grabbed his crossbow as fast as he could, reloading it with almost shaky hands because despite their strong fighters, the situation seemed to get worse by the minute. "M!" he yelled, looking up to check where Murphy was. He was almost pleased to see that the younger MacManus was throwing himself at the incoming danger, doing exactly what Daryl had wanted him to do anyway.

The hunter started running as well but ended up staring up the building with the sick ones for a final time, looking for the window he knew belonged to the room Connor was in. "Sorry, bro" he muttered, knowing that if Connor saw this now, he was going to lose his shit and probably come down here. But there was no other choice, no sugar coating any of it, neither was there the time to do the 'wrapping Murphy MacManus up in bubble wrap' crap.

This was about saving lives, and there really was no other choice. If they didn't manage to thin out the herd then they'd literally be _trapped_ in here. Walkers were pretty much surrounding their town by now, he and Wendy had seen it when they had entered Woodbury by crossing the roofs. If they couldn't stop the never-ending flow of walkers inside here, then they were going to get overrun and eaten.

Like canned food.

So Murphy needed to be up front there, right in the middle of the herd and try to stop as many as possible from entering their town in the first place, since he was the only one who could get this close without getting attacked. Daryl started shooting his arrows at walkers as well and had to stab the first walker already because he was getting too close.

"Aye?!" Murphy eventually managed to answer Daryl's previous call and turned around from his slaughter for a second, to check what Daryl wanted from him.

"Get your ass out there in front of the wall! Try to pick off as many as you can and stop them from getting in so we can handle the situation in here!" the hunter yelled back and Murphy turned around again to stab and shoot some more walkers, only to start running. "Got it!" he answered and almost dived right into the crowd, making Daryl turn around to face the others. Even though he had seen it many times by now, the effects of the MacManus twins' immunity was still sending a shiver down his spine.

"Rick!" he eventually shouted next, running for their leader and his son.

"You're back?! How can this be happening?!" the former police officer yelled over the never ending gunshots from his and his son's rifle, kneeling down to reload when his magazine was empty.

"We came 'cross this herd on the highway, I think they followed us, only three people were on watch cos shit went haywire inside the sick building!"

Another string of gunshots from Carl made both men turn around to see what was happening, and Daryl immediately remembered why he had wanted to talk to Rick and Carl in the first place.

"Be careful! Connor's bro's running around this mess, he's tryin t'get to the other side of the wall to stop them from getting in!"

"RICK!" they then heard and turned around in the other direction, only to see that Andrea and Michonne had arrived from the supply run as well and were now standing on top of the roofs, having entered their town the same way as Daryl and Wendy earlier. Rick momentarily turned his head again to help his son, Carol and Tyreese shoot some more walkers, but then he quickly turned his head to face Andrea again to start shouting directions at her as well.

"Stay up there! Try to pick off these walkers from there, cover us and holler if the other walls give in!" he yelled and then turned his head to face Daryl, quickly placing a hand on his shoulder to squeeze it. "Go to the armory and grab some rifles and get them up there!"

"Watch yourself" the hunter said with a nod, staring their leader right in the eye for a moment. He gave Carl a nod right after that and started running as well, heading for the armory, dodging bullets and stabbing or shooting walkers on his way there. Everything was ringing a dangerous bell right now, reminding him of the many battles they've had before this. The battle at the prison, the last battle which had happened right here in Woodbury when he'd been captured and found Merle, or when they'd gotten overrun on the farm.

The bright side was that at least this time, he didn't have to fear getting captured and beaten up while being tied to a chair, and at least this time, he didn't have to fear Connor getting bit or hurt because he'd locked his friend up, because he was sick and knocked out anyway, because he was safe. But despite knowing all that the whole thing was still beyond chaotic and dangerous. It made his heart pound and his breathing go hard, and he could almost feel the adrenaline rush through and intoxicate his body.

It took him a while to get the guns, fight walkers and then get on the roof, but from then on, it was pretty much easier. He had a better view from up there and could watch over his group a whole lot better than when he was down on main street with them, no matter how much he wanted to be down there. But he'd already run out of arrows in such a short time and wasn't of much use with just his knife when they were facing so many walkers, so he stayed up on the roof with Michonne and Andrea, mainly for three reasons.

One: he could see how many more walkers were coming in or not, two: he could keep a vague eye on Murphy, who was pretty much slaughtering walkers by the wall, and three: because this way, he could also keep a better eye on the Connor's window, maybe even hoping to see him try to see what's going on or….whatever.

Daryl lost track of time and didn't know how long they were doing this at all, simply because of the never ending concentrating, shooting, killing, reloading, protecting. The herd seemed to get smaller and smaller eventually, whereas more and more corpses were piling up on their streets, the parking lot, in front of their walls. They wouldn't stop hacking, shooting and kicking until the last walker finally fell to the ground that was pretty much drenched with blood by now, leaving nothing but a slaughtered pile of flesh behind. The sun was high up in the sky by now, marking that a new day had started, and that with a terrible blast.

Everyone was exhausted from the fight, from the heat of the sun and the general terror from the previous day, the sickness, their supply runs, everything.  
For just a moment everyone stilled and lowered or dropped their weapons, staring at the mayhem, the chaos that had rained down on their town.

They had made it.  
Another victory.

No one had been bit, no one had been captured, hurt, or forced to abandon anything.

They had made it.

Some people started cheering. Some started chuckling and clapping. Rick and Carl were hugging each other in the middle of main street. Everyone was calming down.

Everyone but Murphy.

Daryl frowned a little, engaged the safety on his gun and then aimed it at the younger MacManus so he could peek through the sight and get a better look at what the Irishman was doing.

Murphy was checking the bodies and constantly looking up, and soon it looked like he was just moments away from running off. _Away_ from Woodbury.

"The hell are you doing…" he growled angrily and released the safety again, only to aim his gun a bit away from his dark-haired look alike. Maybe, just for a second, he thought about shooting him again, because even now he still hated that the guy was here, despite the fact that they were slowly getting along. But this was only the dark side of him calling for action, something he immediately forced himself to ignore. What he did instead, was point the gun at the street to Murphy's left, far enough from the guy. He then fired a warning shot and startled the Irishman, the exact thing he had tried to achieve.

Murphy startled violently and then turned around, and although he was quite some distance away Daryl could still see the look on his face.

 _Are you fucking shitting me?! You nearly shot me you asshole!_ It said, screaming all the way across the street at Daryl, without any actual words.  
Daryl gestured wildly to tell the younger MacManus to stay put. Murphy raised his middle finger in the air and turned around to start walking again.

Daryl fired another shot.  
Murphy finally stopped and turned around, gesturing wildly and obviously yelling something. Daryl couldn't understand what the other man was yelling, and even if he could, he would pretend he couldn't anyway. Maybe he even had to smile a bit.

For so many reasons. Because of the fact that he had successfully pissed the younger MacManus off again, because Murphy was actually listening to him, because all the walkers were gone and because it was finally over, because everything just HAD to get better again, because he knew that he was only moments away from seeing Connor again, bringing him the medication he needed and then…watching him get better again. Daryl finally allowed himself to celebrate their victory with a little chuckle and smile of his own as he put the rifle down, and then headed for the ladder to get back down.

The whole place was a mess. There was blood, shattered bones and guts everywhere, and it was hard not to trip over the countless bodies that were lying all over the streets of their town, with the most of them hanging over the bus or lying on a pile in front of it. Daryl rubbed his mouth with an awkward, disgusted sniff and frowned because of the smell and look of it all, but he never got the chance to actually make a remark on any of that, because Murphy immediately started shouting and snarling at him the moment he thought Daryl was close enough.

"Fuckin hurry fer fuck's sakes, we gotta go!" he shouted and finally turned around again to start walking away from Woodbury once more, which forced Daryl to jog after him.

"Wa…wait, what? T'hell's your problem, you freak? We fought 'em off, there's no need for us t'…"

"Conn's not fuckin back yet, alright?!" Murphy suddenly said and turned around to face Daryl with wide, angry eyes, but his fear was still more than obvious.  
Daryl stopped walking and stared back at his look alike.

"The hell do you mean, he's inside the apartment block with the others, we gonna get the shit he…."

"They told me he'n Hershel left last night ta burn some bodies ta stop the dead from pilin' up in there, but they didn' come back and I….fuck, I checked all the bodies here but he wasn' with 'em an we didn't shoot him while he might've tried ta get back in but …fuck, he isn't here!" Murphy explained, nearly stumbling over his own words because he was talking so fast. His voice contained a mixture of fear, anger, worry and panic, like he was literally only moments away from either having another one of his violent fits of rage or like he was about to cry because he was so worried.

"Go on now, grab yer shit and do yer redneck thing, track'm down and let's go find him!" Murphy then immediately said and grabbed Daryl by his shirt with an angry look on his face. "He's fuckin sick and he coulda…hey!" the younger MacManus shouted when Daryl suddenly fought him off, turned on his heels and started running back towards Woodbury, cursing and muttering a never-ending angry "Oh no no no no no you didn't"'.

* * *

The room was empty. He could see the unmade bed with the sweaty sheets, saw the bed covers where Connor had obviously kicked them off the moment he had decided to get out of bed and leave this room. He could see the cup of tea with half its contents still in there, long since cold, waiting to be drunk and finished.

Except that the person who'd been drinking that tea to get better was no longer in here.

He had checked the other rooms, the hallways, practically the entire building, but Connor really was nowhere in sight.

His room was empty.  
He wasn't here.

_They told me that he and Hershel left last night to burn some bodies to stop the dead from piling up in there, but they didn't come back._

Last night.  
When they had been gone, when they'd been in Fort Valley to get him the medication he…  
 _Fuck._

Daryl kicked the bed hard and clenched his fists as tightly as he could.  
He really wanted to beat this stupid Irish guy's face right now.

He had told him to stay here, he had told him to rest, he had told him to take it easy and wait for the meds to get here. He was sick, he had been in direct contact with the first infected, he had seen the outcome of it.

 _The trails are from the internal lung pressure building up inside the body, like if you shake a soda can and pop the top. Just imagine your eyes, ears, nose and throat are the top_. _Coughing, high fever, anemia, pleurisy, hypoglycemia. It might be pneumococcal…I think we're dealing with a very aggressive flu strain here._ _Choked to death on his own blood._

That's how he just had to imagine him now, too. Right? Choked to death on his own blood. Lying there with blood all over his face. Dead. Succumbed to the flu. Out there. On his own. Next to a pile of burned, smoking bodies.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ _._

Daryl kicked the bed hard once more and then turned on his heels to leave Connor's room with an incredibly angry look on his face. He honestly didn't know what he was gonna do, should the stupid Irishman decide to turn up all of a sudden, with that stupid grin on his face, probably mocking him. He was gonna beat him fucking _bloody_ over this, that's what he was going to do. He was sick and fucking tired of this shit. _How many fucking times had he told this asshole to just stay back and think and_ _not_ _get himself in trouble? And how many times had Connor done the exact opposite of it only to turn up bloody, half dead or whatever?_

He was gonna kill him, should he find the guy dead out there. Oh yes. He was _so_ dead if that happened.

He cursed the day he had met this stupid asshole, cursed the day he had started caring about him, worrying about him, loving him. Connor was still like a drug, he hated their relationship, knew that it wasn't healthy, but at the same time, the moment it got interrupted by something, he wanted it back more than anything, like he literally couldn't live without their fucked up thing anymore.

Daryl left the room to let it out on the next best person he came across. He didn't exactly get disappointed, especially when he remembered and saw that Maggie and Glenn were up here as well. Maggie, whose father was missing, too, after all. Daryl entered the room and opened the door far harsher than necessary, startling the couple a bit. Not just Glenn looked sick but Maggie didn't look too good either, it was obvious that she was worried sick about her fiancée.

"When did he leave" Daryl snarled, his voice and the look on his face giving the anger away. The hunter clenched his fists once again and just glared at the two of them, making it obvious that he was in a hurry and just wanted to get the information. If it weren't for Connor then Daryl would react differently and he knew it. If it weren't for the whole Connor situation then he would treat her differently, tell her that he was going to go out there and find her old man, that he was gonna be okay.

But right now, he couldn't say anything like that at all. Because when he looked at them the anger just got worse, for so many reasons. He blamed them, for a start. Blamed everyone who had been here to watch Connor leave with Hershel yesterday evening, anyone who had not stopped him and had ultimately failed to prevent all this.

Then he was also angry because he just needed to look at them, and it felt like a slap to his face. It was fucking _unfair_ _._ Of course, he would never admit the following, but it was still true. He had been looking forward to a reunion like that. _He_ was supposed to be sitting next to a bed right now, _he_ was supposed to be taking care of his sick friend, give him the medicine, just be with him, listen to his stupid talk, all the stupid things he always said. _H_ _e_ was supposed to be allowed to finally sit down, calm down, and look forward to seeing the person who mattered the most to him recover and get better again.

But of course, because neither Maggie nor Glenn nor any of the others had tried to stop this stupid asshole, he wasn't having any of that now.

"I beg your pardon?" Maggie asked with a frown, looking slightly confused but also offended by his sudden rude entrance and the way he acted.

"The stupid fuckin _sick_ leprechaun you let go out there with your dad without stoppin 'em. When did they leave exactly? They say where they went? _"_

"I…wh..what? They're still not back yet?!" Maggie asked with a confused frown, then she paled even more.

"When?!" Daryl asked, a bit louder this time, because he was only split-seconds away from losing both his patience and temper. It wasn't even about Maggie. He wasn't directed at her and the more rational part of his brain knew that there was nothing she could've done to stop Connor anyway.

But how was he supposed to deal with this otherwise? The anger, the fury, the worry, the sheer _panic_ _?_ He still didn't know how to handle this shit. He still didn't know how to take all this feelings bullshit, how to come to terms with the fact that Connor might be gone, might have disappeared, died or whatever. He just _needed_ to know.

"They left shortly before sunset. I thought maybe they couldn't get back here because of the herd but…." Maggie looked out of the window for a moment but then turned her head to look at Glenn. She took one of his hands in both her hands and then kissed his thumb. "I gotta go find daddy. I'll be right back. You rest" she said and kissed his thumb multiple times, just making Daryl even more furious. He didn't want to see any of that lovey-dovey crap, didn't want to see anyone care so much about a person when his own wasn't here right now, when they were wasting time they could use to look for him instead.

Daryl found himself looking outside the window as well, once again cursing the Irishman in his head, over and over again, repeating it like an angry mantra although deep deep down, he was just doing it to cover up the fact that he was scared and worried sick. Maggie got up and used the motion to give Glenn a loving kiss on his forehead, making Daryl look down and then bite the inner side of his lip hard. The hunter folded his arms angrily and then decided to simply turn around, the motion once again far more aggressive than necessary.

"Let's go!" he roared angrily, leading the way outside the room because he just needed to do something.

* * *

Murphy almost lost his mind waiting for Daryl, but in the end he knew that he wasn't going to be of much use out there without the redneck. The sad truth was that Daryl probably still knew more about Connor than him, they had spent more than a year together after all whereas Murphy's head injury had destroyed pretty much every memory he'd ever had of his brother.

Daryl knew more about Connor, this state, this town, their surroundings, he probably knew where his brother would go, what he would do, why he would do it. And even if they didn't know all that, he had seen the hunter in action. The guy could read tracks. He knew his way around the woods like he was walking around with a sat nav.

Daryl was his only chance of finding Connor as quickly as possible, and time was exactly what they needed to save. The younger MacManus pictured the most horrible things right now, saw his brother lying out there covered in blood, choking on it, like he had seen Glenn do it just before the herd thing. Connor needed them. He just knew it. Could feel it in his guts, like their weird connection was working once again. Something wasn't right. It made him anxious, it made him feel sick and nervous,

_it just didn't feel right_ _. He needed to_ _do_ _something._

They had wasted way too much time trying to save this town from the herd, and although it had been necessary, it still had been a pretty shitty thing to do, considering that Connor was freaking out there. Not in here. In his bed, in this town, where they had brought the meds he needed so badly.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Murphy used the time he was waiting for Daryl and the others to get ready to actually circle main street once more, to check the bodies of the countless walkers they had shot, just in case. _What if Connor had tried to get back in here using them as cover, trying to get help? What if someone had accidentally shot him, mistaken him for a walker?_ Murphy kicked and turned some walkers, nervously moving around their property, and although the walkers came in all sorts of different shapes, genders and former ages…he saw Connor in each and everyone of them. Turned them around. Boom. There is Connor. His dead, bloody blue eyes, staring straight back at him. Dead. Lifeless. Bullet hole between his eyes.

There had been many many occasions where he had wished for Connor to get shot in the head, he'd even dreamt about it shortly after the Boston incident, after he had learned the truth. There had been many occasions, simply because he'd felt so hurt, so betrayed, because there had been so many things he hadn't been able to remember, to understand.

He cursed himself for these secret wishes and dreams now. He wanted to kick himself in the ass and ask himself who the fuck would wish for their brother to be dead. No one did. That was the truth. Connor had never done it, had never wanted it and it had almost destroyed him, and if he really did find Connor among the dead bodies right now, then he honestly didn't know how he was going to take it either.

With each dead body Murphy observed and with each dead body that wasn't Connor came both the incredible joy and relief but also…the fear. Because with each body that wasn't Connor, it was just getting more and more obvious that he was _really_ out there, lost, maybe collapsed, in an unknown state of being. Deep deep down Murphy just knew that Connor wasn't dead. He knew that he'd feel it otherwise. But this was pretty much the only thing he knew, and it was the not knowing that was driving him crazy, it was the not knowing that brought him closer and closer to yet another fit of rage.

_Where the fuck was the redneck? Where the fuck was everyone? Where were Maggie and her sister, all the guys who had anything to do with Hershel, the old man, the other guy who had gone missing? Why the fuck was no one going out there to go look for his brother with him?_

Of course, he knew the truth.

_Because there's no one left to go out there. Everyone's sick. Too many people have died. Two were murdered last morning. You murdered another one last afternoon. More people died inside this building while you were gone, people Connor had gone out with after all, people Connor had burned and who had gotten him into this mess in the first place. And now people were busy trying to put up their walls again before more walkers turned up, people who had fought a whole herd of walkers for more than an hour. Your place is fucked. Everyone is fucked and everything is going to shit. There's no one left to go out there looking for your brother with you._

Murphy put both his hands on his hips, the finger with the 'Aequitas' tattoo nervously drumming on his belt. He was going to give them three more minutes. Three more minutes. And if no one was going to turn up and help him by then, then he was gonna fucking go look for Connor on his own. He didn't give a shit about the fact that he didn't know anything about this place and its surroundings, didn't give a shit that he'd gone lost out there before. All that mattered right now, was finding Connor. Bringing him back here and giving him his medicine. He still wanted to tell him so many things, tell him about the thing with Terry or tell him about all the things he felt sorry for.

So Murphy kept walking around, smoking one cigarette after another as he tried to calm himself down and keep himself busy at the same time. He was just about to go ahead and leave on his own when Daryl finally exited the building with just an equally angry look on his face, like he couldn't believe any of this either.

Maggie was right behind him looking worried as well, her father was lost out there, too, after all.

"There the fuck y'are. Fuckin hurry!" the younger MacManus complained and approached the two of them, but right then and there yet another string of heavy gunshots startled them all and made the duck down in surprise. They all looked in the direction of their walls, suspecting yet another walker attack at first, but Rick, Carol, Tyreese and the others were all just standing around and looking in the same direction with a surprised look on their faces as well, guns lowered and indicating that they hadn't been the ones to shoot.

A moment later the shooting resumed and they heard a loud and surprised scream coming from their roofs, and when they all turned their heads they only caught a short glimpse of Andrea dropping to the ground up there, like she had either been hit or dodging bullets. Then a loud WHAM made them look at the wall once again, where they saw it shake and crack a bit.

"What the…." Murphy mumbled, looking at Maggie and Daryl who returned the look, then they all started running.  
Maggie, Murphy, Daryl, Rick, anyone who was outside started running for the wall, wondering what was going on.

Although both Murphy and Daryl knew that it was absolutely impossible, they both still forced themselves to think that maybe this was Connor and Hershel,finally coming back after being gone all night. Waiting to be let back inside, shooting the last couple of walkers out there, the lurkers they had missed during the never-ending battle and trying to keep Woodbury standing.

Daryl really wanted to believe that this was Connor coming back, that there was no need to freak out and go out there to find him again, maybe even dead, bloody eyes, choked on his own blood, killed, by the flu. But he already knew that this couldn't be Connor, simply because there was no way he was going to shoot at their sniper up on the roofs, and neither was there any way for him to make the wall shake like they had seen it do moments before.

When they climbed on top of the wall they were once again greeted by the stench of decaying flesh and blood. There were corpses lying around all over the street in front of what was left of their walls, with flies circling their bodies with a never-ending buzzing sound, slowly tearing their prey apart. The people from Woodbury had never gotten the chance to clean up their mess, because now they were facing something _far worse_.

Every one of the few standing survivors who had managed to climb the wall either gasped in shock or ripped their eyes wide open in pure horror, freezing in place. It all seemed so wrong. They'd thought that they had managed to defeat their worst enemy so far. And yet here they were. Facing _them_. A large group of maybe 30-40 men and women. Once again piling up on their fragile walls.

Military trucks.  
Heavy machine guns pointed at them.  
A tank.

Connor.

He wasn't moving or struggling, he wasn't trying to talk his hostage-takers into anything at all. He was just staring right back at Daryl and Murphy. Murphy, who immediately wanted to jump off the wall to start shooting and screaming, but Daryl placed a hand on his chest to stop him. It was then when Murphy finally seemed to notice it, too.

The blade that was placed right on Connor's neck.

 _This can't be happening. This isn't how I wanted this stupid fuck to come back,_ Daryl thought in utter shock, swallowing hard. Of course, just moments ago he had been thinking about all that crap on how he was going to beat his friend bloody over going missing like that, how he was going to kill him for scaring him that much. But never in a million years had he meant for it to become _real_. He clenched his fists, and his teeth were about to crack because he was grinding them so hard, his muscles were getting more and more tense the more the whole sight of it really sunk in.

Connor was kneeling there, in front of one of the military trucks. Covered in blood. His clothes were dirty and a bit torn, indicating that although no walkers seemed to have bitten him again, someone had done a whole lot worse to him. His head was slightly bowed because he was obviously exhausted, sick and in pain, with dark, swollen bruises covering his face, arms, practically every inch of his body. It was almost impossible for them to even recognize him, because he was in a terrible state.

Although Daryl saw how Rick walked forward and started talking to that pile of strangers who had obviously tortured their friend, the hunter didn't take note of anything that was being said or done. He couldn't. All he could feel was the tension Murphy was radiating right beside him, how tense his muscles were where Daryl's arm connected with his chest to keep him back so he couldn't screw this up.

Daryl couldn't hear anything, do anything, think anything.

He just stared at Connor's battered figure with wide eyes, his best friend who was bloody, dirty, battered, almost dead.

A woman was placed right behind him and held him in place with that knife to his throat, smiling up to them like so crazy psychotic madwoman. It was obvious that she was enjoying this, that she and her fellows knew they were _outnumbering_ them big time. Their vehicles and guns pretty much told their story already. They certainly didn't look military, meaning that they had somehow managed to either overrun a military institution, or that they had managed to get all that stuff elsewhere. And since they didn't look military and they still owned all that, it became more and more obvious that they weren't friendlies, that they knew what they were doing and how they were coming across.

They were _fucked_ , Daryl thought, swallowing hard. The tank and machine guns weren't even the biggest problem. They had heavy machine guns as well, maybe they even had the home field advantage with their walls and houses and narrow streets. The biggest problem was just the following: Their shootout because of the herd this night had caused them to run very low on ammo. They had fired pretty much everything at the undead to keep them out and save their town from getting overrun. Their walls were weakened. Their people were sick.

They were _fucked_.

Daryl found himself staring back and forth between the guns, cars and ultimately, Connor.

The sight of him made him beyond furious, and just like Murphy he just wanted to storm down there and kill every single one of those bastards who had done this to his friend, who had just turned up here like that, right after the herd shootout, like they had been waiting for it to end so they could use it to their advantage even more, like it wasn't like they had that one already anyway.

In the end he completely glued his eyes on Connor though, staring at him, trying to communicate with him while at the same time, desperately trying to come up with a plan. Connor was usually the one to plan stuff, to have great ideas and save the day. He had been the one to pretty much guide them through the battle at the prison, but right now, it didn't exactly look like the Irishman had a plan either.

For a moment they managed to communicate somehow, or it felt more like one was trying to express something with looks while the other interpreted all sorts of things into said looks. Daryl thought to read a ' _I'm so fuckin sorry, man. For running off and all that'_ in Connor's eyes and he automatically wanted to shoot him all over again, thinking the exact same thing he'd thought earlier _._

I told you to stay put, you asshole. I told you to wait for me to come back, why does it always have to be you getting into trouble as soon as I'm gone.  
I told you. I

_**asked** _ _you to stay put._

I know, man. Fuck, I said I was sorry. It didn't go as fucking planned, alright?

Fuck you, your plans never work out you stupid fuck!

Daryl just gave his friend an even angrier frown. Connor bit his already bloody lip hard and then suddenly nodded to his right, making Daryl frown even more until the hunter did as suggested and looked to the right. He paled, realization suddenly hitting him right in the face.

He recognized one of the guys.

_Flashes of two guys suddenly turning up to the left and right of their car, one of them pressing a knife to Connor's throat like the woman was doing it now, whereas the other guy pointed a gun at his head, the one he was holding now. The old man and his children on the farm. Forced to kneel like Connor, guns to their heads, the execution, the cheering and laughing woman. The one who was standing behind Connor now._

_Fuck._

Despite how fucked their situation truly was, Connor still managed to give him a cracked, knowing smile.

_You got it. You know what's coming. Get the fuck out of here._

No, no no, man, they're not gonna…

Daryl tried to express, still completely ignoring the talk Rick had with the leader of this group. He just tried to keep eye contact with his abused friend, but much to his dislike Connor decided to look at Murphy right then and there. It was kind of grotesque. The MacManus twins were kind of communicating in the exact same way, but Connor was immediately different with his twin.

He suddenly didn't radiate the fucked up 'this is it' attitude and there was an entirely different vibe to him, a mixture of joy, comfort and protectiveness, marking him as the big brother once again. Although Daryl couldn't quite tune into the full silent conversation and looks the twins shared he could still pretty much read Connor's side of it. The older of the two MacManus twins was obviously trying to calm his sibling down and stop him from a possible suicide mission, tried to let him know that everything was going to be alright and that he should just wait for him to figure it all out.

Daryl snorted angrily and wanted to call Connor out on his bullshit and hypocrisy, but in the end, he decided to simply look away because he couldn't quite take it. He forced himself to keep his shit together although for the first time, he felt terribly helpless and vulnerable. Because he honestly didn't have a clue how to get Connor out of there alive. He didn't know anything. About how to save Connor, about how to protect their town when they didn't have enough man- or firepower.

All he could do was remember Connor's silent suggestion.

_You know what's coming. You've seen how they are. You can see it by just looking at me. Get the fuck out of here. Get everyone the fuck out of here._

Daryl pressed his lips together until they paled under the pressure. He tried to approach Carol as slowly and carefully as he could, to let her know that she should get off the wall and run for the children, that it was time for their emergency protocol.

"Just let him go. You don't need to have hostages, you got a tank" Rick still tried to reason with the incredible new force, making the madwoman laugh and the others grin and chuckle.

"Don't worry pal. 's just insurance to make it clear we're being serious. We need your buddy more than that tank. We're used to just shootin everybody up to get what we want, it's how we got this baby after all. But this time, we don't wanna shoot any holes in our new home, trust me. The deal's simple and pretty generous. Your friend… in exchange for your town. Intact walls, no dead, no wasted bullets" the leader called Derek said,seeming strangely charismatic despite his fucked up story and leverage.

"You don't want this town. We…. We had an outbreak, we…we got sick people in here."

Derek just smiled even more and then suddenly walked towards Connor, making Daryl stop talking to Carol. The hunter watched the man like a hawk, Murphy was close to losing it. He was only seconds from jumping the wall, Connor being the only one to somewhat control him with looks and frowns and a determined warning shake of his head.

"I know, your little Irishman already told us about it, he's got it, _didn't_ he?" Derek asked and suddenly kicked Connor hard in his stomach, making him topple over under sudden, heavy coughs he had been determined to keep in. But just like before the targeted kicks and punches to his belly and aching lungs made it impossible for him to fight it, so for a short moment he just lay there and nearly coughed his lungs out, forcing even more blood to escape his mouth, not just from all the beatings, but also from the still raging infection.

"NO! I swear ta fucking god I'm gonna kill you!" Murphy suddenly roared at the top of his lungs, face nothing but a terrifying, angry grimace as he ran for the edge of the wall. Half the people from the opposing group immediately cocked their guns and pointed them at the younger MacManus, ready to shoot him on the spot. But both Connor and Daryl reacted at the same time. The hunter grabbed his look alike by his shirt to keep him in place, and he used this gesture to let go of his own anger at the same time, grabbing the fabric of the younger MacManus' shirt as hard as he could and trapping it in a tight fist, to a point where he almost ripped it apart.

Daryl already felt his muscles tense and his jaw clog up as the incredible rage filled him all over again, that dangerous, murderous wrath that overcame him whenever someone dared to hurt his friend. He knew that him holding Murphy back was the only thing which kept him from lashing out as well, and he immediately gave the man who had just kicked Connor a glare that said everything.

_You are_ _**dead** _ _._

Connor was still coughing heavily but then forced himself to look back up, which got only supported in a rather violent way when this crazy woman called Jessica yanked him back up on his hair as well and then placed the knife back on his throat. Although Connor did struggle some he forced himself to ignore her and everyone else around them, he just stared at his best friend and brother with wide eyes, only to fix them on the latter.

"MURPH!" he shouted under throaty coughs, until he finally managed to keep them back in. "It's all right, Murph, okay? I'm right here" Connor said, just like the countless times before in their old lives. He didn't know if Murphy remembered it but he didn't care, he needed to say it. Their secret code, the one they had always said to each other whenever one of them had gotten sick or hurt, when they had just been little boys back in Ireland.

Murphy looked confused as hell but for some reason he still seemed to get it, because despite the fact that he was obviously just milliseconds away from jumping the wall to protect his brother, he suddenly stilled and stopped fighting Daryl's aggressive grip. Both twins looked each other right in the eye until Connor gave a tiny smile and then nodded, only to look back at Daryl with an earnest look on his face.

 _Get him the fuck out of here. Get him off the wall and out of the line of fire or he's gonna get his ass shot to bits._ _I swear to god, if he gets shot…._

Daryl gritted his teeth and stared right back at Connor, accusing him, wondering why the fuck his friend wouldn't just humor him like that as well. Whenever they were looking at each other, Connor was making it obvious. He wasn't cool and optimistic about it at all. He was prepared for the worst. He wasn't thinking about his own wellbeing anymore.

He was planning ahead.  
 _  
Stop playing it like they're really gonna off you. We're gonna get your stupid ass out of here, you understand? I'm gonna kill you if you die out here today_ the look on Daryl's face said, which just made Connor give him that certain, knowing cocky smirk of his. Both friends looked at each other for a moment as Derek proceeded to talk.

"Your friend told us about your folks being sick, threatened us about how infectious it is…well look at that…"Derek said and raised both his hands in the air for a bit to signalize that Rick was supposed to look at his people.

"My people are just fine despite us being around your infected friend for an entire night…and if it's really so infectious, then there's one more reason for you people to leave this town as soon as possible, isn't there? Why waste so much space on people who are pretty much dead anyway? Where's your sense of common welfare? So you better hand it over to healthy people who can take better care of your four walls, buddy."

Daryl finally used the time to approach Murphy and pulled him back a bit more.

"You remember your secret way in and out?" he muttered, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on both Connor and their attackers.  
Murphy did the same and wouldn't answer Daryl, an incredibly worried and furious look on his face as he kept his eyes fixed on his beat up brother.

"Hey, listen to me!" Daryl snarled and finally forced Murphy to look at him. "You pack your shit now, get some guns and knives, and help Carol, Tyreese and the others with the kids…"

"I'm not fuckin leavin him, are ye fockin…" Murphy immediately tried to complain, but Daryl shook him angrily. "No…no..you're gonna get your ass down there, you're gonna help the others get those kids out of here first and as soon as you're done, you're gonna try and greet them with a surprise attack from behind with me and the others. I'm gonna keep an eye on him, he ain't goin nowhere while you're gone, okay. If you gonna keep playing that bullshit stubborn kid act of yours it's gonna be too late for an emergency exit, cos then they're gonna have our asses surrounded."

Murphy stared back at Daryl for a moment, looking incredibly stubborn but at the same time actually considering this. The younger MacManus gritted his teeth and then quickly fixed his eyes on his injured brother again, who seemed to be having more and more trouble keeping himself upright. It looked like Connor was having a hard time breathing, not just because of the knife to his throat but also because of the countless bruises and the flu, and the whole state he was in made it even more obvious that they really needed to do something. As quickly as possible.

"I'll meet ye at the wall. Ye better watch his fuckin ass and shoot every motherfucker who gets too close ta him or I swear.." Murphy warned the hunter, but ended up continuously looking at Connor. He didn't want to leave, he wanted to see his brother at all times and be ready to shoot and protect him, should all things escalate, but at the same time he knew that Daryl was right, the tunnel was there only chance. They needed to get the angle on them. Surprise them. Strike at the right time. They needed to mobilize their forces and get ready for the worst.

 _'m sorry, Conn. I'll be right back. 'm not gonna let them hurt you_ , the look on his face said and he stayed frozen in place a minute more, unwilling to leave his brother until Daryl finally managed to animate him to get going with another nudge. Murphy eventually and reluctantly climbed down the ladder and got off the wall.

Out of the line of fire.

For a moment Connor actually lost his cool down there and looked a bit desperate and upset, knowing that this could be the last time he had seen his brother, should the blade on his throat or the guns all around him be quicker than those of his friends. He still knew that he was in a situation that was completely fucked, but it was the thought that kept him going, the knowledge that Murphy was out of the line of fire for now, that he wasn't there to see this, should anything go wrong. So Connor ended up smiling and fixed that on Daryl right then and there, thanking him with that look, looking incredibly grateful once again. _Thanks for looking after my brother._

"Alright, enough of that talk. We're making this pretty easy for you. You got an hour to pack your shit and leave town, we let your friend go and save our ammo, no one needs to get hurt. No more discussions."

"Just hear me out…"Rick pleaded, sounding more and more desperate because he was just as terrified and helpless because of the whole scenario. There was no obvious way out of this, they didn't want to leave, they didn't want another battle because they didn't have enough people or ammo, they didn't want to lose any more friends or this home because they needed it to get their sick through this, they didn't want those people to kill Connor right in front of them, they just didn't know how to solve any of this. All they could do was talk, but it was obvious that the other group was fed up with it.

"You leave…" Derek interrupted Rick angrily and then suddenly turned around to approach the car that was parked behind him. "Or your friend ends up like this!" he announced and then suddenly pulled something out of a bag, raising it high in the air.

For just a moment no one was able to say or do anything, because the sight of it shocked them to the core. Derek had pulled Hershel's bloody head out of the bag which he had kept inside his car, there was no sight of the rest of Hershel's body. What just made it even worse was the fact that after decapitating the Greene sisters' father, no one had bothered stabbing the remains, which now forced everyone from Woodbury to look at the snarling head, the moving, bloody mouth, the once so friendly, wise eyes which were now milky grey and dead.

Hershel Greene had been murdered.  
Decapitated. Left to turn.  
His head was dangling high in the air.  
Right in front of them.

Maggie and Beth started screaming and wailing. Rick screamed an utterly horrified and heartbroken loud "NO!" right at them. Daryl stared at the bloody remains with wide eyes, equally shocked and horrified, but he couldn't say or scream anything because to him, it wasn't even over yet. He stared at Hershel's head in utter shock and immediately remembered the execution scenario back at the farm yesterday, which forced him to turn his head and look at Connor in horror.

_You leave or your friend ends up like this._

The members of the opposing group started laughing at them, sick bastards that they were. Then everything was happening within the blink of an eye.

"ONE" Derek counted and then turned his head to the right, smiling at the madwoman and giving her a slight nod. Daryl just widened his eyes even more. A couple of meters away from the wall, Murphy suddenly stopped running and turned back around to look at the members of his group in horror, Daryl, Maggie, Beth and Rick, all those people who had suddenly started screaming. Murphy stopped and looked at them with wide eyes, suddenly getting incredibly _bad_ vibes.

The woman outside reacted to her boyfriends nod and suddenly started pressing the knife down to Connor's neck, starting to cut to Derek's countdown with an excited giggle. Connor immediately flinched and wanted to cry out in pain the moment the blade dug into his flesh, but he gritted his teeth hard and forced himself not to make a sound. But he didn't need to, because Daryl took over that part.

"NO!" the hunter started screaming just as loud as Rick and fired an arrow in his crazy fit of rage, knowing that it was going to make it worse, knowing that this was the first shot of many following ones. He knew he had sealed the deal now, but he just _had_ to stop her. He managed to hit her in the arm and got what he had aimed for, she immediately stopped cutting Connor's neck and dropped the knife, widening her eyes in utter shock. She shoved the Irishman away so she could grab her shot arm and then started screaming in pain, which forced her boyfriend to stop counting so he could look at her instead.

"JESS!" he shouted and started running, immediately losing it as well.

"Kill those motherfuckers! Blast a hole in their fucking wall and kill every last one of them!" he yelled, which was the introduction to yet another incredibly loud hail of bullets and gunfire. Every single member of Derek's group immediately started shooting at anything moving. Rick barely managed to scream a terrified "GET DOWN!" at everyone on top of the wall, already earning the first bullet to his leg with a painfilled yelp.

A split second later everyone simply jumped off the wall in utter terror, diving down, only moments before more bullets rained down on them, blasting their windows of surrounding buildings and piercing right through their walls with a never-ending rattling sound. Daryl, Rick, Beth and Maggie all landed painfully on the hard asphalt under screams and sobs and painfilled grunts, and they barely managed to get back on their feet when they heard the incredibly loud WHAMing sounds once again, saw their walls shake, rattle and crack every time the tons of weight from the tank connected with their construction. The shooting and ramming wouldn't stop, making it clear that this was Derek's group attacking them and trying to get inside, that this was a heavily armed group trying to kill them so they could take over Woodbury.


	28. Act

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooooo. I'm so super super sorry for not updating this story even after more than two weeks have passed. But university kept me incredibly busy with thousands of projects and jobs and there literally was no time for me to write, and when I had some spare time, all the stress had killed my inspiration and writing mood. This is actually a very important chapter, one I've been looking forward to for a while now, and I felt like I needed to take the time to get it right. So I did, and I'm pleased with the result. So pardon my long absence, please don't think I lost interest in this story. The absolute opposite. I WILL finish it, I WILL get it done. No matter how busy I am.
> 
> Thank you for your patience, your comments and kuddos. Keep them coming. I still love you, and I hope you still do, too! ;D

"CONNOR!" Daryl heard Murphy wail, despite the deafening sounds of rattling gunshots all around him. He could hear people scream, not just in terror but also in pain whenever they got hit by bullets. The banging sound of the tank against their walls wouldn't stoop, in fact, the creaking of strained metal was getting louder and louder by the second. Just like the others Daryl had to grunt and moan in pain, because his fall off the bus had been a rather harsh one. His knees hurt like hell from the impact, just like his left hand which had tried to lessen the impact. His heart was pounding. His ears were ringing. And yet he could still hear him. See him.

"CONNOR!" Murphy just kept screaming like that, eyes ripped wide open as he ran against the stream of people who were trying to get away from the wall. But he was running right _towards_ it again. So many things were happening at once. There was nothing slow-motion going on here. Everything was happening incredibly fast, but for some reason, maybe because of the adrenaline and fear rushing through his body, Daryl could make out every single one of those things.

He saw people getting mowed down by bullets that rattled right through their walls, the ones that had been built to withstand bloody hands of walkers but not high caliber bullets. It was so easy to get shot up on main street, simply because their city was stretching across a hill, forcing everyone to get higher and higher the further they got away from the wall, making its protective ratio smaller and smaller, until they were ultimately in plain sight.

So he could see some of them get shot in the back, in their legs and arms, how they zigzagged around, trying to dodge bullets. He could see Rick to his right, cowering behind the shaking school bus, screaming for his son Carl as he tried to nurse the gunshot wound to his leg. He could see Beth, also cowering behind the bus, crying her heart out over the shocking sight of her father's reanimated head while a sobbing Maggie tried to pull her away, tried to talk her into running to get Glenn and then flee. It were those tiny seconds of impressions and Murphy's constant screaming his best friend's name, his terrified running towards him with his eyes fixed on the shaking walls that suddenly made Daryl _realize_.

Only the silent promise at first.

 _Get him the fuck out of here. Get him off the wall and out of the line of fire or he's gonna get his ass shot to bits._ _I swear to god, if he gets shot…._

Him.  
Murphy, Connor's brother, who was running _for the wall_ again, to get on top of it, to get back into the line of fire.

Daryl tried to get up, tried to focus on just that but couldn't because right then he finally realized _something else_ as well.

The constant, rhythmic bumping sound of a tank and two other military cars continuously driving against their walls, making them shake and creak under the force, so close to giving in. Screams of both metal and terrified people, the remaining crowd of people from Woodbury who were trying to either fight back or run away in horror. The never-ending rattling of machine guns and bullets that were piercing through their walls.  
The sounds of those bullets hitting flesh and bones, knocking people over, killing them.  
The blood.

It hit him like a train. The sudden knowledge actually petrified him, left him there to stay, to lie on the ground and watch Murphy come closer and closer to him and the wall he was still lying in front of.  
Screaming his name.

_Connor._

The sudden shootout, the fall off the wall, the chaos all around him had successfully distracted him for a good minute, but now there was nothing left but the horrifying realization: Connor had to be dead. And right now he was actually seeing what he was sure must've happened to his friend with the shooting of the first bullet from a hostile machine gun.

He saw Bob getting hit in the shoulder right across the street, saw how Sasha was trying to drag him behind a bench in real time.

In his memory, he saw Connor getting his neck cut by this woman, saw her getting shot, saw this leader psycho run for them and shout for everyone to kill them and start shooting.  
He saw himself fall off the wall. And Connor get _killed_ the moment he was out of his line of sight.

This was the only logical conclusion, the one that had become clear the moment his body had connected with the ground on the other side of the wall.

The safer side.

Connor wasn't on this side with them.  
There was no cover for him, no school bus to cower behind like Rick was doing it.

There was only the rattling of machine guns and the banging of a heavy tank and cars on the other side of the wall.

"CONNOR!" Murphy screamed once again, only a second away from passing Daryl on his desperate attempt to climb up the shaking wall to see and protect his brother from up there. But Daryl knew what was waiting on the other side. With each shot and dropping person, with each person that was getting massacred right in front of his eyes it was getting more and more obvious.

His best friend was dead on the other side of the wall. Shot and massacred just like all the others were experiencing it now. There was no sugar-coating it. No way out. No solution. Never had been. They had known the moment they had seen their enemy's artillery. Connor had known ages ago. Daryl had known the moment he had looked into his friend's eyes.

_You know what's coming. You've seen how they are. You can see it by just looking at me. Get the fuck out of here.  
Get everyone the fuck out of here._

Daryl still couldn't breathe.  
No matter how hard he tried.

It wasn't just from the harsh impact anymore, and the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his heart wasn't getting worse because of the chaos all around them.

It was the realization that Connor was _dead._

Daryl quickly replayed that last image over and over again.

He had hit her in the arm.  
He had hit her in the arm.  
In the arm.  
Not the head.  
 _Not the head.  
_ He'd heard the guy's threat.  
He'd seen the guy approach Connor to pull it through, right when he had jumped off the wall to save his own ass.  
They _all_ had jumped.  
No one had been there to stop him from getting close to Connor to avenge his girlfriend getting hurt.  
 _No one had been there to stop him._  
 **No one had been there to stop him.**

Oh god.  
Connor was _dead_.

"CONN WHERE ARE YE, ANSWER ME!" Murphy screamed at the top of his lungs, looking both incredibly furious and mad with rage, but at the same time, incredibly, incredibly _scared_. He passed Daryl who was still lying on the ground, didn't even see him, he just needed to get on top of the wall, just needed to see.

He needed _to see_.

The younger MacManus yelped in utter shock when someone suddenly grabbed his arm and yanked him back so hard that he tripped and fell backwards to the ground.

"NO, NO LET ME GO, LET ME FUCKIN GO! I GOTTA…." he screamed, not just to drown out the sound of gunshots and all the other screams, but also because he could hardly fight his emotional outburst, the sheer madness that seemed to take over if he didn't get to see if his brother was still alive on the other side of the wall, if he didn't get to protect him because Connor was _cuffed_ over there, because he didn't have anything to defend himself with, because he was sick and probably dying. And even though he was so furious and felt the simple need to kill everyone for this, he still suddenly couldn't hold back the angry and terrified tears that started to flow. Because deep deep down Murphy's perfectly fine voice of reason knew _exactly_ what was going on on the other side of the wall, what he was going to see.

"STAY DOWN HERE!" Daryl suddenly yelled right back into his face, looking so incredibly furious and angry that it was actually terrifying. His face was red and the veins on his forehead were swollen and pulsating with that rage as he brutally forced the younger MacManus to stay where he was, to a point where he even punched him hard in the face to both shut him up and make him so dizzy he wouldn't be able to get right up anyway. Murphy bit his tongue hard because of the sudden punch and gagged awkwardly, utterly shocked by the suddenness of it all. His head was spinning not just from the punch and his head injury responding to that, but also because of the emotional turmoil and terror he suddenly found himself in.

He vaguely noticed how Daryl grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him up a bit to look him right in his face.

"Your bro told yah to stay put and get out of the line of fire, you're not gonna get your ass shot again and turn him into an emo as soon as this shit is done, _so you stay put here right the fuck now_ " he snarled in his face and then shoved Murphy back down, making the back of his head connect hard with the burning asphalt underneath him. He didn't have any time for arguments, couldn't risk the younger MacManus going up there to get himself killed, too.

 _He_ needed to do this on his own.

And suddenly it was Daryl who ran back for the wall, tried to reach the very edge and corner of it, the portions that weren't shaking that much and that looked like no one was really trying to use to get inside.

He knew it was stupid and foolish and plain out suicidal.

He didn't even know why he was doing it. Whether it was to protect Murphy and keep him from getting himself killed, protect the only thing he probably had left of Connor now, or whether this was possibly him considering doing something stupid, should he really have to face what he feared.

He only knew one thing for sure.

He needed to _see_.  
He needed to _make sure_.

Daryl awkwardly tried to climb the wall, constantly dodging bullets and turning his head multiple times to check if Murphy wasn't climbing the wall on his own. The younger MacManus was still lying somewhat on the ground, grunting and awkwardly trying to get back up although he obviously felt rather dizzy from the punch Daryl had given him, which had been his exact intension. For a moment Daryl actually struggled a tiny bit with his plan, had a hard time really pulling it through because he didn't even know if he wanted to see _that_. He gripped the metal planks hard as he somewhat tried to heave himself halfway back up the wall, still trying to hide from the bullets. His constant climbing and moving around didn't leave him any other choice in the end though, and it actually took him by surprise when a sudden sway to the left actually kind of _forced_ him to catch a glimpse of what was going on on the other side of the wall.

The tank and the cars smashing against their walls, going backwards and forwards over and over again.  
All the others, their enemies with machine guns, trying to climb the wall from the other side to get a better view, to get the angle on their victims.

Connor.

Daryl really wished for time to just stop. For everyone to shut up, for everything to go on in slow motion, so he had more time trying to process this. But nothing like that happened. Everything was happening crazy fast and loud all around him, making the striking difference even more known.

Everyone was screaming, shooting, climbing and running around.  
Everyone's was sweating, everyone's chest was heaving, everyone was breathing hard.

Everyone but Connor.  
He was just lying there, on the ground.  
Motionless.

Daryl only managed to catch that one short glimpse, but it was enough to nearly knock him out. He couldn't see much but it was enough to break him, enough to seriously make him consider just keeping his head stuck out like that because everything hurt so much, because it felt like he couldn't breathe anymore anyway, because it felt like his heart had just stopped beating. The lump in his throat was immediately there.

He couldn't see his face and the entire upper half of Connor's torso because there was another body lying on top of him, covering him up a bit. Maybe this was a good thing, Daryl thought. Maybe he could use it to keep telling himself that this wasn't real, that this wasn't Connor, although Daryl _knew_ it was him. He recognized the clothes, recognized the tattooed arm that was sticking out of the small pile of bodies, sprawled out on the ground, sun-tanned skin striking against the asphalt. Maybe it was still a good thing, not to be able to really see his face, or whatever was left up there. There was blood. Too much blood, all around him, so much blood that it was hard to miss it in just the short amount of time Daryl actually got to see the other side of the wall. Countless scenarios still started playing in his head, made him imagine countless things. A cut throat. Even worse. Maybe he had…

_Hershel's head, dangling high in the air. Maggie, Beth and Rick , screaming in horror at the sight of it._

There was too much blood on the asphalt.

_Oh god. What if he had died like…_

Two sudden events put an end to Daryl's incredibly painful train of thoughts.  
Murphy started shouting for him again, demanding an answer about his brother's whereabouts, his wellbeing.  
Precise gunshots which had been aimed right at him, only missing him by a few inches, rained down on his side of the wall.

Daryl startled violently and automatically ducked his head down, despite the fact that he didn't even fucking want to do that right now. Didn't want to do or care about anything at all.  
He didn't give a shit about getting hit because his best friend was…

"WHERE'S HE?!" Murphy shouted and started running in his direction.

Daryl took a very short moment to compose himself, his mind desperate to go blank and just black everything out because of the incredible _pain_ and loss he felt, but when he saw Murphy running towards him, when he saw Carol and the others, Rick and Carl, when he saw all of them running around all around him and getting shot at, he finally made the decision.

He couldn't let it eat him up.  
He couldn't let it eat him up.  
Nothing'd happened.

_Get the fuck out of here. Get everyone the fuck out of here._

_"_ He ain't there no more! The bitch and a few others are downed! I think he made a run for it when the shooting started! Sonofabitch sure was smart enough to get his ass outta there at the right moment" he yelled and then jumped back down, successfully making the younger MacManus stop in his tracks.

Daryl tried his hardest to keep his shit together, although the sudden hopefulness in his lookalike's eyes felt like a hard slap to his face.

"Really? Are ye fuckin sure?!" Murphy asked, still trying to head for the wall, but Daryl grabbed him by his shirt to force him to stumble in the other direction.

"Yeah. Street was clean 'cept for their freak tank and cars."

A loud bang against the now dangerously creaking walls startled the both of them and made them turn their heads in the direction of their cover that was beginning to fall apart. Both Daryl and Murphy looked at the wall with wide eyes, realization really hitting them now.

There town was about to get overrun.  
Again.  
And this time, there was no way to save it.

The walls were too weak, still weakened from the previous herd attack.   
There was no time to stop it, nothing left to fight two attacks on the same day.

Everything was lost.

And there it was again, the painful lump in Daryl's throat, the horrifying image which had burned itself into his mind, the bloody body, the threat, the…

 _Everything_ was lost. _  
_ _Everything_ was falling apart.

"We gotta go" the hunter said, staring at the shaking wall with a strange look on his face, a look Murphy did not understand, couldn't understand, didn't have the time to understand.

"We gotta go" Daryl repeated and then another hard WAM startled them once more, stressing the statement even more. The hunter then turned around and started running to the right, towards the row of houses there, to try and get some cover. He didn't just want to leave because it was painfully obvious that their walls were just about to finally give in, he also wanted to leave because there was no way in hell he was waiting for the wall to come crushing down to reveal his best friend's bloody body on the ground once more, because he knew that if this was going to happen now, he was just going to stay frozen in place, possibly even give up because this couldn't…

He forced himself to shut everything out, the pain, the emotions, the grieve, the anger, he forced himself not to feel anything but the need for survival, because he was a Dixon, because this was how he had been raised, because _nothing_ was going to bring him down, because he would always survive. So he just started running like all the others, even using the lie to justify this train of thought.

"Come on, we gotta find your bro out there while they're busy getting in!" he shouted over his shoulder, incredibly angry, not just with Murphy, but also with himself because he knew

 _exactly_ why he was doing that. He hated Murphy MacManus with all his heart, blamed him for everything, now more than ever, but right now, after everything he had just seen, he just knew that his lookalike was the only thing he probably had left, the only thing he had left of _him._

"Are ye fuckin sure you saw…" Murphy asked behind him, still zigzagging and dodging bullets until they took a sharp right turn to head for their secret tunnel, the secret way out by using the backyards.

"HURRY!" Daryl just interrupted his lookalike angrily, getting more furious by the second. Because of his friend's death, because of the fact that the younger MacManus was so annoying, because of the fact that _none_ of the others were anywhere in sight back here. A loud creaking and crashing sound not too far away from them told them that the wall had given in, that the tank and the other vehicles had managed to gain access to their town, that this was their town losing its final cover, opening itself up to an unstoppable and deadly shower of bullets.

There was no time to argue over Connor, no time to back up the lie, no time to turn around, see his friend one more time, or go back to try and find the others. They needed to leave. They had a new mission.

 _He_ had failed his old and most important mission. His one year journey of finding Connor MacManus, putting him back together, saving him from disease and pain and near death experiences. _He_ had failed his job as his first and only best friend's protector, new brother, even lover.

He had _failed_ Connor.

The past, the present, the future, that was over.  
The job was done.

He had a new task now. Protect his friend's brother.

A task he really needed right now, because if he didn't even get to do that, then he didn't know what he was going to do instead. He needed to pull it through this time. Couldn't fail. Wasn't allowed to fail. There was no time to go back, to fight, to face.

He had a new task.

* * *

He didn't know how long he kept running for. He just did. One foot in front of the other. Faster and faster. Over and over again. Jumping over old tree stumps, fighting off branches before they hit his face, nearly stumbling and regaining balance just when he was about to fall. He knew if he did fall now he was going to lose it. Everything. His temper, his mind. The battle against the utter pain, the grief.

Daryl was well aware of Murphy's constant shouting for him to stop, his unsure, then angry, then desperate calls for answers, his questions for directions, plans, questions about his brother.

And it was exactly the latter Daryl was running from.

He couldn't get the fucking image out of his head.

No matter how fast he ran, no matter how hard he tried to run away from it. There it was, like a three hour slideshow only showing one and the same image over and over again, flickering, there it is, the image, fade to black, flicker, the image, fade to black. The arm with the tattoo sticking out there somewhere, stuck between other bodies, the large puddle of blood on the asphalt underneath the body, the blood that had soaked right through the fabric of one of the infamous _stupid_ grey shirts, the old worn and partly torn jeans and shoes, the figure itself.

A flickering slideshow, haunting his mind, the same image, repeated, over and over again. Connor's lifeless body, just another one on the pile of many he had seen. Stuck between corpses of the enemy and walkers, like he was just another one of them, a faded, unimportant pile of flesh, drowning in the masses of slaughtered beings.

He'd had so many fucking nightmares about images just like that.

 _The_ night after the farm, when he had also seen Connor all bloody, when he'd really thought him to be dead. He'd never wanted to see anything like that ever again after that night. He'd always dubbed it the worst night of his life. He'd thought that that grief and worry had been the worst mix of emotions he'd ever felt, but it paled in comparison to what he was feeling now, paled in comparison to what he had seen today.

How he wished for _that_ night to at least repeat itself now, instead of what had happened less than an hour ago. If Connor really had to go, really had to fucking die, then he was willing to beg for a repetition of _that_ night then, instead of this. At least _then_ he would've been there, been able to see the light go out, at least then, he would've been able to be close, to be there during that last second, to let the guy go out on his own terms. Their own terms. A 'heroic' almost 'normal' death in this new world. Gone out fighting the undead. Infected and killed by a disease that had killed billions before. Not like this. Executed, cuffed, not being able to see anyone he loved during that last second before the final blow.

That was really the worst part about it, something Daryl couldn't forgive himself.  
Connor had died fucking _alone_ _._ His friend's worst nightmare, his biggest fear. The twin brother, the friendly, charismatic leader, loyal friend and caring lover. Died alone. Seeing no one but the enemy all around him because his friends, his family, had jumped out of his sight only seconds before. He'd had to face that on his own. Something the Connor he knew had never really been able to do.

There were walkers all around them. Attracted by the noise that was still echoing all over the surrounding area of Woodbury, the ongoing noise that had been drawing in walkers since yesterday. For a while Daryl just kept running and running, away from the certainty that his friend was dead, away from Murphy's questions and the truth, away from the fact that they were all alone, away from the walkers. But it didn't take too long and he was fed up with even that. Because it was exactly that. His best friend was dead. He was stuck with this annoying piece of shit behind him. Their other friends where nowhere in sight all around them. And the snarling of the walkers was driving him insane.

Before Daryl even really knew what he was doing he suddenly stopped running from everything. What he did instead was turn around to actually face the small herd of walkers that was chasing them. He once again ignored Murphy who was now yelling for him to get away so he could deal with the herd because of his immunity. Daryl just ignored that and actually shot an arrow at the first walker with a furious look on his face, even breathing loud and hard like a furious bull.

He quickly and efficiently reloaded his crossbow and shot the next arrow, blindly ignoring Murphy's attempts to stop the walkers from coming at him. The hunter even actually shoved the younger MacManus out of the way and then proceeded to use his knife in one hand and his crossbow in the other, using the both of them to stab and bash heads in. _The exact thing you should've done with them_ _,_ he thought in his blind and mad rage, as he remembered what he had done instead. Jumped off the wall to save his own ass. Run. He had never even _tried_ to save his friend. Or any of the others. He _hated_ himself for that. Hated everything and everyone. Connor, Murphy, these walkers, there was nothing but blind hatred left inside of him.

He spun around like a madman and either kicked, punched, stabbed or knocked the bunch of attacking walkers out, soon leaving Murphy to stay where he was and just watch him with a strange look on his face, until it came down to the last walker. Daryl was grunting and gasping his way through his own little massacre and then mindlessly started stabbing the last walker's head over and over again, harder and harder as he desperately tried to let go of that hatred and anger, that grief, that guilt.

He didn't even feel like crying right now. He felt like screaming but killed any sort of attempted noise in his throat, although the deed itself did hurt in so many ways. It hurt because it reminded him of how he had taken down his _real_ brother just a couple of months ago, hurt, because that pain was also coming back and only got triplicated by the new pain he felt. But he forced himself to ignore the memories, to ignore the pain, to ignore everything, he even forced himself to see other images instead. Not Merle, or Connor, no, the bloody face and mass belonged to that leader guy now, or even his stupid fucking bitch of a girlfriend, whoever had hurt his friend, killed his friend. This was him replaying that scenario now, making it better, making it right.

 _He_ was supposed to be his friend's murderer's killer. _He_ was supposed to be the punisher, the avenger.  
This was what he should've done to them and he knew it.

_Another thing set right._

Murphy just watched his outburst quietly, quite shocked by it but at the same time still looking incredibly worried. Daryl eventually let go of the walker, completely out of breath, sweat running down his face, his hair, his chest that was heaving. Murphy pressed his lips together, unsure what to do or to say because frankly, he was quite beside himself as well. It killed him not to know where his sick and beat up brother was, killed him to see that they were now all alone in those woods, now that Daryl had killed all their undead 'companions'.

Apart from their exhausted and heavy breathing it was absolutely silent all around them now. Making it obvious that the massacre back at Woodbury had either stopped, or that this was them being too far away from it already because of Daryl's never ending sprinting. Daryl eventually looked up to face Murphy for a moment, once again looking at him with that strange look on his face. The hunter just sniffed awkwardly and almost disgustingly and then rubbed his nose as he got up, making Murphy feel even more uncomfortable and angry.

He didn't even want to be with this disgusting, fucked up redneck. Didn't even know why he had followed him. For the past couple of hours, he'd just been so eager to get back to his brother. And now this.

Daryl got back up and looked around their surroundings, still breathing hard as he clumsily and almost shakily retrieved his bolts. He didn't just check for any more walkers, he also tried to see if any of the others had made it out of Woodbury, if any of the others had taken this route.

They were all alone.  
It was silent.

A scenario that just made it impossible not to process everything they had seen, that made it impossible _not_ to associate the silence and lack of movement from his friend's bloody, dead body. Silenced. Still.  
 ** _Dead._**

Daryl gritted his teeth, clenched his fists and turned around to look at Murphy, angry desperation making itself known once more.

He wasn't alone.  
He wasn't alone.  
He had a new task.

He still wanted nothing more than just lunge at the younger MacManus. Bury his fists in his face to punch that hopefulness and worry out of it, because there should be grief and nothing but anger in Murphy's eyes as well. It hurt the hunter beyond reason to see that, to know that his best friend's brother was still in that almost delicious state of not knowing about Connor's death, of not feeling _this_. He wanted to punch Murphy bloody to make the bruises swell his eyes shut because they were an exact copy of Connor's eyes, he wanted to punch Murphy bloody to let go of that incredible _grief_ _and anger_ that was still there despite his previous slaughtering all those walkers.

Daryl didn't do any of it.

Didn't punch.  
Didn't kill the hopefulness.  
Didn't tell Murphy the truth.

In the end, it was the only thing to keep him going as well. The illusion. The making himself believe all that bullshit along with Murphy. To just _pretend_ for a little while longer. _  
_

 _I know he's gone. But you look like him. Just let me keep pretending yer Murphy._ _**Please.** _

That's what Connor had told him more than a year ago. In the woods, when he'd been so incredibly annoyed by him, when he had _hated_ him. When he hadn't been able to relate or understand yet. And here he was now. Knowing about the undeniable truth that his friend was dead, gone. Staring at Murphy who had his friend's eyes andhis accent and his tattoos because they were twin brothers. Pretending that he was still alive and waiting for them. Standing in the woods, when he was so incredibly angry with Connor because he had _loved_ him.

"We agreed on an emergency escape route and meetin point close t'our former hideout. Others gotta be there. We should go" he just muttered and still avoided answering Murphy's previous questions, avoided his gaze, avoided the sight of the slaughtered walkers on the ground. He still saw them, saw the blood and smashed heads down there as he walked past Murphy to get going again, saw Connor's bloody, dead body in each and every one of them.

* * *

Murphy nervously moved about, chewed on his fingernails, tapped his fingers on his knee, even rocked back and forth a little bit as he continuously looked up and down the street, the one that was pretty close to their camp. It was pitch black. It was cold, it was deadly silent apart from the groans of the walkers down at the prison. They had been waiting here for hours now. The street he actually remembered from his trip with Connor two or three days ago. It was close to the spot where they had taken the picture on the front lid of the car, when they had their real first mission together, just the two of them.

Connor had told him about this place, the prison, so he actually still believed Daryl who had told him that this was the emergency meeting point, but it was getting harder and harder for him to stick to that belief. Something was wrong, something was _off_. He could feel it. More tapping of his fingers against his jeans. Even more determined chewing on his finger nails to a point where he nearly made his thumb bleed from the hard, nervous bites.

The street was still empty.  
It was still cold and silent.

Murphy stopped looking up and down the street and turned his head to look at Daryl instead, who was sitting across from him, on the other side of their little campfire that was supposed to at least somewhat keep them warm in the cold and make it easier for their friends to find them here in the dark. Daryl was just sitting there, arms folded over his bent legs. Staring into the fire with an almost blank look on his face. The hunter hadn't said a single word since sundown. Hadn't even moved at all, much in contrast to Murphy, who was getting more and more nervous by the second. The younger MacManus eventually let out a little frustrated sigh and stopped chewing on his fingernails so he could use both his hands to rub his thighs as he shifted a bit more to get Daryl's attention.

"Ye sure this is the place?" Murphy broke the silence and straight out asked, once again looking up and down main street, hoping to see Connor or any of the others now.

They were still alone.  
Daryl still wouldn't answer or even look at him.

"May…maybe they met up down at the prison, or maybe they couldn' see us, I don' know. Maybe we should just get movin and go look fer 'em. I mean, Conn told me about this place, maybe they actually got back ta it, maybe they're down there" Murphy went on. He was close to losing his shit again because it was so frustrating not to get any answers or directions, because he hated how Daryl just wouldn't say _anything_ at all. He kind of respected his brother's friend's reaction though. He had seen the massacre as well after all, he knew that Daryl had lived in Woodbury a whole lot longer than him and that he'd had many more friends than him back there. Friends who had been shot and murdered in front of their eyes, in a terrifying hail of bullets.

 _Woodbury ain't just a town, and those people over there ain't just people. We're a_ _group_ _over there.  
We're family 'round here. Ain't gonna let __no one_ _get hurt._  
  
That's what Daryl had kept telling him.  
He knew that the whole turn of events sure had shaken the hunter to the core, no matter how 'tough' he always acted. So Murphy tried to be somewhat sympathetic, although it was getting harder and harder. He bit his lip and stared down the street again.

"We wasted too much time sittin around here. Conn looked like he was in a pretty fockin bad shape. He…he could've blacked out and tripped or something, maybe we should…" Murphy tried expressing himself but ended up letting out yet another, angry, and frustrated sigh as he looked down abruptly and finally allowed himself to stop the sugar-coating to get to the point. "He's real fuckin hurt somewhere out there and our sittin on our asses waiting fer him or the others ta come around's just completely retarded and 's not gonna help him. We gotta go back" Murphy said matter of factly, angrier this time because his insane worry was making itself known once more. He knew he was right, sitting around here was stupid. Connor needed his help. He knew it. He could _feel_ it.

Daryl didn't react. He just stared straight ahead. Into the campfire. With an unreadable expression on his face.  
Murphy gave his lookalike some time to gather his thoughts and come up with an answer, but when it got obvious that he wasn't going to react Murphy lost his temper again.

"Hey, 'm fuckin talking ta you inbred motherfucker!" Murphy actually shouted and kicked at the burning branches, trying to get some burning ash to fly in Daryl's direction to at least get his attention this way. The hunter startled a little bit and shifted a tiny bit, finally looking up to face Murphy.

He just looked at him.  
No answer. No further movement.  
He just visibly but soundlessly breathed in and out, only to lower his head a little and look back at the campfire again.

Murphy was actually surprised by that reaction. He was used to their fights, their harsh words and hatred for each other, he was used to Daryl's rough manhandling him and making it obvious that he didn't like him or his provocations. And even if he didn't get rough and violent at least he always had some dumbass remark or insult for him in store, any words, anything. But this time.. There was nothing. He just kept looking at the campfire.

Murphy gritted his teeth a little and started to aggressively chew on his lower lip, fighting hard to keep the outburst inside.

He lost the fight.  
But in a different way.

"Fine, go fuckyerself then" he growled and got up, deciding to ignore the hunter as well then. He understood his reaction to everything that had happened today, understood that he was grieving and in shock, but the truth was that he, Murphy, didn't have the time to keep patting this bastard's back because his brother needed him more right now. And that just made him even angrier with Daryl, now that he thought about it, because he knew about the hunter's relationship with his brother, knew how Daryl was also supposed to care about Connor's wellbeing which he certainly didn't seem to do right now. He wouldn't just sit there otherwise after all.

"'m gonna go fuckin look fer my brother" Murphy said as a final statement, trying to poke the hunter's conscience , to make him see how fucking unfair and straight out stupid it was to risk letting Connor be out there on his own when he obviously needed them. The younger MacManus got away from the campfire and started walking down the road, trying to remember what direction he and Connor had chosen when they had made their way back to Woodbury after their little break here a couple of days ago. He couldn't remember the direction because of his head injury and memory problems, but fuck no he wasn't going to ask Daryl for directions now after having told him to go fuck himself, he was just gonna start walking and find his way back on his own then.

* * *

The slideshow was still there.

Only showing one and the same image over and over again, flickering, there it is, the image, fade to black, flicker, the image, fade to black. The arm with the tattoo sticking out there somewhere, stuck between other bodies, the large buddle of blood on the asphalt underneath the body, the blood that had soaked right through the fabric of one of the grey shirts, the old worn and partly torn jeans and shoes, the figure itself.

A flickering slideshow, haunting his mind, the same image, repeated, over and over again.

Connor's lifeless body.

Daryl was aware that he'd been staring into the fire for hours now, he was already seeing bright spots because of it, but the truth was that he wasn't even seeing the flames, wasn't seeing anything. He just stared for the sake of staring, because he didn't know what else to do. There was nothing left _to_ do.

It was dark. It was cold. It was quiet. They were alone.

_Alone._

The street was empty. Lay there abandoned.

"May…maybe they met up down at the prison, or maybe they couldn' see us, I don' know. Maybe we should just get movin and go look fer 'em" he heard the younger MacManus babble right then and there, bang on the dot, like he'd read his mind.

No one had made it here. Or anywhere close to here.  
They were all alone.

Rick was gone. Carl was gone. Judith was gone. Andrea was gone. Michonne was gone. Carol was gone. Tyreese was gone. Sasha was gone. Glenn was gone. Maggie was gone. Beth was gone.

Hershel was gone.

Connor was gone.

"I mean, Conn told me about this place, maybe they actually got back ta it, maybe they're down there."

There it was again. Murphy mentioning Connor. Talking about him like he was still there.

 _He didn't have a fucking clue._  
  
Daryl was too numb to feel anything. The endless grief had momentarily killed to feel any sort of emotion.  
He didn't feel the need to answer, didn't feel annoyed by Murphy's nagging. He didn't feel cold in the dark. Didn't want to hurt, punch, yell, shout, look, say anything at all.  
Just…nothing.

"We wasted too much time sittin around here. Conn looked like he was in a pretty fockin bad shape. He…he could've blacked out and tripped or something, maybe we should…" Murphy kept talking after short pauses, sounding more and more impatient and annoyed.

Daryl wanted to snort at that comment.

_Conn looked like he was in a pretty fockin bad shape._

Right now, the hunter was so fucked up that he even had to fight the urge to actually _smile_ at the absurdity of that comment.

 _Yeah. Connor had looked like he was in a pretty fucking bad shape. Terrible shape.  
Dead shape._ _  
__Dead._ _**Fucking** _ _. Shape._

The hunter slowly clenched his fists at that, dug his fingers into the cold fabric of his jeans, close to his knees.

"He's real fuckin hurt somewhere out there and our sittin on our asses waiting for him or the others ta come around's just completely retarded and 's not gonna help him. We gotta go back."

Go back.  
Damn right did he want to go back. Go back to a year ago. Before all of this bullshit. Before he had met this stupid fucking Connor asshole, before he had cared about him. Back to his old self when he hadn't felt a single damn fucking thing. When he'd still had his own brother, this new group, when he'd had Rick, Lori, Carl, Andrea, Amy, Dale, T-Dog, Glenn and all the others around him. When they had all been _alive_ _._

"Hey, 'm fuckin talking ta you inbred motherfucker!" Murphy actually shouted then and kicked at the burning branches, sending some of the burning ash flying in his direction. Daryl startled a little bit and shifted a tiny bit, finally looking up to face Murphy. The younger MacManus was so fucking different than Connor with his behavior, his looks, his mannerisms, his everything. Daryl literally could not stand him at all for so many reasons, the most important one being the fact that he was forced to practically look into his own face all the time whenever he saw him, a face which he despised and hated.

But the truth was that despite the hatred and differences Daryl still saw _him_ in Murphy right now, every last detail kept reminding him of Connor, something which he just _hated_ even more, really didn't want. But there it was, the tattoo on the neck, the dangling rosary, the eyes, the tattoo on the arm only that this one wasn't bloody and dirty from a murder, there it was, the accent and the shared name, the shared blood, the shared scars and memories.

Just like he had been there to haunt Connor with endless memories of his supposedly dead brother, Murphy was now here to haunt him with endless taunting memories of Connor.

_And he was clinging to that now, too._

_Fuck._

Daryl quickly looked back down again to try and isolate himself because this was so stupid, so pathetic, so out of character for him. He was Daryl Dixon. He wasn't supposed to grieve or feel any sort of emotions in that direction. It wasn't supposed to hurt any more than the loss of his other friends, but the truth was that yes, the knowledge of his group's unknown whereabouts and possible deaths hurt _a lot_ _,_ but that hurt paled in contrast to the insane hurt he felt over the certainty of _Connor_ 's death amongst those. _  
_

"Fine, go fuckyerself then" Murphy growled and got up to leave.

He actually pulled it through and started walking away from the campfire. Daryl just stayed where he was, staring into the fire, feeling numb, dead, hollow. For a moment he actually considered just staying here. Maybe to wait for someone else from his group to come back so he could go back to his former self with them, forget about the MacManus brothers, pretend they had never existed in the first place. Or maybe he just wanted to stay here to be completely on his own, like he'd done it back on the farm for a while. Maybe this was the right way to do it, to make the pain _stop_ _._

This was the one thing Merle had kept blaming him for, the one thing he'd kept blaming himself for and had never been able to forgive himself. Letting people in. Letting them mess with his head and heart. Letting them make him vulnerable and naïve. Loving and caring about family and people was what made people weak, vulnerable _. This_ was what made it hurt so much. Maybe he just needed to stop caring about anyone again. Life had been easier before this all. Maybe then the fucking pain would just stop.

Maybe he should just stay…  
Sit here.  
Be on his own.  
Close to the woods.  
Sitting in the grass.  
Inhaling the scent of the grass and earth and wood.  
This was where he belonged after all.  
This was what he was supposed to care about.  
Hunting. Survival. Nature.

Murphy kept walking away from him, letting out a final, frustrated and disgusted huff.

"'m gonna go fuckin look fer my brother" was his goodbye.

And this was it.

Daryl slowly and steadily raised his head at the sound of those words, looking after Murphy, staring at his back.

 _Keep lookin after Connor fer me. Don' leave him alone._ _  
__Promise me ye look after Murph._

They had told him this.  
Asked him this.  
Over. And over. Again.

Daryl pressed his lips together, fighting the urge, trying to stay, sit here, but in the end he lost.  
He leaned his head a little to the side and then grabbed his crossbow as he got up, a gentle sigh of defeat leaving his lips.

He had _promised_ _._

The hunter kicked enough dirt at the fire to kill it and then finally followed Murphy, finally gave in to his nagging.

"Wait up" he growled, which made Murphy stop walking. The younger MacManus still looked annoyed an angry, but at least he was waiting.

"I know a way back. 's a shortcut" Daryl muttered and kept walking when he passed Murphy, so he could take over the lead, so he could take over the new role.

The truth was that there was no shortcut, there was only the distraction.

His new task was to protect Connor's brother like he had promised, and right now it meant keeping him from the possible mental anguish of seeing his own twin brother dead, murdered, bloody on the ground. The only last thing he could do was give Murphy some sort of better 'goodbye' than he'd had. To leave him in the dark, keep that last shimmer of hope in his eyes, the slight possibility that although Connor was gone and never to be seen again, he may be alive out there somewhere in Murphy's head.

Maybe Daryl's new and only reason to keep going and moving was to play that endless game from now on. Reason to keep moving: find 'disappeared' Connor again. Reason to keep moving: keep the illusion up that Connor had just disappeared. _Not_ died. This way, he could keep leading Murphy around for weeks, maybe even months. This way, at least he could have a reason to _force_ him to stay with him so he could keep an eye on him, so Daryl didn't have to be alone.

Because he knew that if he told Murphy the truth now or if he let him see the truth back at Woodbury, he wouldn't just hurt the younger MacManus in a way Connor never would want him to get hurt, in the end, it would also leave no reason for Murphy to stay with him. Daryl knew that his lookalike was going to leave him in a scenario like this, make it impossible for him to look after him, that it would cause him to be the ultimate definition of lonely.

No.  
He couldn't let that happen.  
He was going to lose his mind otherwise.

Daryl wasn't disappointed and soon heard Murphy follow him, a character trait Connor had told him about multiple times before. Murphy liked to follow. And now, he was his new 'leader'.

And that's what he did.

Daryl started walking down the road and headed for the nearby woods to make it harder for the younger MacManus to see where they were going, to make it impossible for him to see that he was leading him far away from Woodbury, as far away from Connor's body as he possibly could.

* * *

There were no words to describe how he felt when he saw the look on their faces, saw their reaction to seeing Hershel Greene's reanimated, severed head. It just made Connor feel even more guilty, feel like this was his fault, that he had failed them, had failed Beth and Maggie, who looked so _heartbroken_ up there. He still wished he could turn back time, free himself and save Hershel from them when they had held them hostage, just to prevent _everything_ he was seeing right now.

Connor was in an even more terrible state now. He was close to suffocating, not just because of the bruises and the flu, but also because the guilt and hatred absolutely paralyzed him.

He still tried to keep his eyes fixed on his friend Daryl, who looked equally shocked and terrified.  
Connor just clung to that tiny shimmer of hope, because he knew that it was just a matter of seconds now.

At least Murphy was gone. Back behind the wall.  
At least he didn't have to see this. Only had to hear Rick and Maggies almost inhuman screams.

And then everything fell into place.  
Derek started to count down.  
A moment later he felt how that crazy woman behind him grabbed him by his hair and yanked him back, making him grunt in pain because it hurt, because he felt disgusted by it.

Although he had to admit that he was actually scared and terrified by now he did not allow himself to show that weakness, to let the others see, especially since Daryl was watching now. Connor fought the fingers in his hair a little bit, trying to maintain some distance and dignity, but then he just kept his eyes fixed on Daryl, trying to let him know that everything was going to fucking work out if he just believed a little. And although Connor kept looking at his friend with a determined look on his face he still automatically started praying, asking his god to be with him now, to protect him, to not let him down.

And then it suddenly happened, almost making it impossible for him not to cry out in pain. He felt the sudden bite of a sharp blade to the side of his neck, felt how it dug into his flesh, ripped it open, made him bleed. He had been through a LOT of shit in his life. He'd been shot, tortured, beat up, bit, stabbed, broken his own hand, he'd gone through all that, and yet after all this time, he still wasn't used to the pain itself. It never ceased to _hurt_ , never ceased to make the tears shoot to his eyes. But if there was one thing all his previous experiences had taught him then it was to take it, to keep it in, to not let anyone see.

Although the knife was really starting to cut deep now he still gritted his teeth hard and forced himself not to make a sound, to _not_ please this sick woman and her boyfriend any more, to not torture Daryl and the others even more than they had already been. He gritted his teeth hard and then harder, clenching his fists and repeating the prayer in his head over and over again as he desperately tried to cling to his faith.

_And shepherds we shall be, for the my lord for thee, power hath descended forth from thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out thy command. And we shall flow a river forth to thee.._

Only that this time, the river was his _own_ blood.

_Come on now, there were so many occasions and legitimate reasons for me to stop believing in you. I never did. Please, god. I still got so much faith left._

He didn't get to finish his prayers, his thoughts, never had to lose the battle against the urge to cry out in pain because the cutting got worse.  
Because then, it was _Daryl_ who raised his voice for him.

"NO!" his started screaming and fired an arrow in his crazy fit of rage, making Connor startle because he thought he was about to get hit as well. He heard the loud ZAP fly by his ear, felt the sudden sharp breeze zoom by his cheek. A second later he felt how the woman behind him actually stopped cutting him and released him, dropping the knife during the process and then calling out in utter pain and terror.

For a moment, Connor was actually kind of 'free'. His hands were still tied behind his back, he was still on his knees, but right now, not a single gun or knife was pointed at his head.

Daryl's arrow had hit Jessica in her arm, making her scream louder and louder as she tried to get rid of it in utter shock and pain. For just a second _everyone_ was staring at her in surprise and shock, momentarily putting an end to the bloody mess and slaughter. Connor looked at her for a split second as well just to see what was going on, but then his eyes immediately fixed on the shiny piece of metal on the ground, the blade with the blood on it.

 _His_ blood.  
The knife.

He immediately tried to somewhat dive down and grab it with his tied hands while everyone else was busy looking at and listening to Derek, who had run for his girlfriend to take a look at her and who was now screaming orders at his followers.

"Kill those motherfuckers! Blast a hole in their fucking wall and kill every last one of them!" he screamed at them, once again looking at his girlfriends bloody arm.

All the others started shooting. Just for a moment Connor actually stopped in his tracks to look at the top of the wall with wide eyes, where he knew his friends still were. All of their enemies started shooting at them at once, and just for a moment the Irishman really thought that this was it, that this was him seeing his friend get shot. "GET DOWN!" he heard Rick yell in sheer terror, then everyone dove down.

He could see some of them get hit.  
Could see how Rick to a shot to his legs.

But other than that, it was simply happening too fast. He barely saw Daryl disappear behind the wall, then he was all on his own down here.  
Making the urgency of the situation even more obvious once more.

The relief over the knowledge that his friend had at least made it off the wall along with his brother didn't hold on for too long. Because _he_ was still here. Tied. With sharp guns all around him. _Oh fuck fuck fuck_. Connor immediately started fidgeting and got scared a bit as he clumsily tried to fish for the knife on the ground, with shaky, sweaty and bloody fingers.

He could already feel that he was close to blacking out. Although the cut to his neck hadn't been _too_ deep it had still caused him to bleed pretty badly. He probably only had a couple of minutes before he passed out and he knew it because he could feel it. If he even made it so far. Because then he could see how Derek suddenly stopped taking care of his girlfriend and gave him a death glare instead.

_Oh fuck fuck fuck._

"Come...on" Connor grunted through gritted teeth as he kept his eyes fixed on Derek and tried to cut his ties behind his back in the meantime.

One good thing about rope.  
One could actually _cut through_ the fabric.  
Cuffs didn't work like that.  
One more reason why he liked rope a whole lot more.

Connor winced and pressed his lips together when he could feel that he wasn't just cutting the rope but also portions of his wrists with the knife simply because it was so hard to handle with tied hands, but right now he didn't even fucking care about that, couldn't care because the guy was coming _close_.

"Come _on_... you piece of shit" he said, panic getting more and more obvious in his voice.

He was close to passing out, close to bleeding out, he was sick, tired, and in incredible pain, but he was still determined not to fucking _die_ today.  
Not like this, not on his knees, not with a blow to his head, not now, not so close to home, so close to his family.  
 _No. It wasn't going to happen._

He could see how Derek didn't draw his gun but brought a _machete_ instead. Connor knew what it meant. This sick fuck was about to pull this through. The threat, the same thing he had done to Hershel. He wanted to fucking _behead_ him with that machete as well. _Fuck._

"Come ON!" Connor said, louder this time, still cutting, feeling the rope loosen just a tiny bit.

In the distance, Connor could see all the others shooting mercilessly at their walls. He saw the tank, saw the cars drive backwards and forwards to crash into the metal over and over again, trying to make it fall. His panicked mind wondered where Daryl and Murphy were, if they were alright, if they were still in there or if they had fled town. He actually prayed for them to get out of there. _Oh shit shit shit._ Everything was falling to pieces right in front of his eyes.

Jess, whose arm was still bloody, had somewhat recovered from the shock and was now mindlessly shooting her AK-47 at the walls in her angry craze, half laughing, half screaming and yelling to take revenge and join this madness. Derek was only about five steps away from Connor and giving him a little crazy smirk already, taking the machete and striking out for the first blow to Connor's neck or head.

Then it happened.

The rope snapped behind Connor's back, leaving his blood spattered wrists untied.

The Irishman immediately turned the knife around in his left hand, and then kept looking at Derek, not allowing his gaze to betray him. He kept waiting for him to come closer, to really open himself up with that swing of the machete. Connor stayed where he was, free but still kneeling with his hands behind his back, the sharp knife glistening in the sunlight but invisible to the man who was approaching him. The Irishman waited for the right moment, waited for his attacker to perform the full swing until Derek's chest was fully uncovered by his arms that were still performing the striking motion. And when it _did_ happen, Connor got up in one swift motion, diving right into Derek before he could hit him with the machete. The Irishman used the upward motion to support his own attack, diving into the man and then burying his girlfriend's knife deep in his stomach, making him gasp in utter surprise and shock.

Connor fully got up and stayed as close to Derek as he possibly could, almost hugging him even, to make it impossible for the others to see _who_ of the two of them had been stabbed. He even used his right arm to tug Derek's machete in and make it stick between his chest and arm to make it look like it had gone right through his body, performing the full act of looking like he'd just been stabbed, eyes wide open in fake shock. One of their attackers did look him in the face then and there, interested to watch him get gutted. The man fell for the look on Connor's face and started grinning, thinking that he was watching Connor get stabbed and gutted.

Connor wanted to grin right back and let the guy know that it was just an act and that _he_ was actually having them by the balls, but he kept the act up, kept standing right here, hugging Derek in the midst of this chaos, his knife buried deep in the man's stomach. Their spectator stopped looking at Connor to get back to the shooting the wall again. And Connor finally gave in to a tiny, exhausted but almost sadistic smile the moment he felt Derek struggle against him.

The man was trying to pull his machete out so he could stab back. Connor clung to it even more.  
The man was trying to get away to get the knife out of his stomach. Connor dug it in even deeper.  
The man gasped for air and started shaking because of the stab. Connor almost _grinned_.

He wanted to say something, something cool like they did in his favourite movies, he wanted the guy to _know_ what he thought about him and how he was going to murder him for everything he had done to him and Hershel, for everything he was doing to their town right now, but the Irishman said absolutely nothing instead. Not just because he couldn't because of the exhaustion and his own pain, but also because it would make this moment less sweet. So what he did instead was proceed to stab the man even more, digging the knife deeper and deeper into his belly, right between them, twisting it around some, until he slowly started forcing it upwards, opening his former attackers belly more and more, making the blood flow out. Even some guts.

He knew it was fucked up. He knew it was sadistic and insane.  
But he still enjoyed it.

This was still his job after all.  
Getting rid of the filth, killing evil men. Making them pay for their sins.

This was the man who had caused Hershel's death. This was the man who had let those others torture him. This was the man who had initiated the attack on Woodbury, an act that was putting his brother and friend in danger now. And _no one_ was allowed to do that. They needed to _pay_. The more he cut, stabbed and sliced the more he could feel Derek's blood soak his grey shirt and jeans, the asphalt underneath them, mixing with his own blood which was running down his neck from the cut, that was running down his face from the beatings.

He could stand here forever and cut that motherfucker to pieces, but then Jessica suddenly stopped shooting and turned around to see what was going on, making it obvious once again, obvious that although he had managed to take revenge and kill this group's leader, Connor still wasn't safe. Because there were _a lot_ of guns around him. Going off. Clattering away. Piercing through walls with their high caliber.

"Babe?" he heard Jessica ask as she suddenly approached the two men, looking more and more worried and shocked the closer she got to them.

_Shit. He needed to come up with a plan now. If she started screaming her boyfriend's name now he was completely fucked._

Connor quickly ended the cutting and stabbing and awkwardly tried to pull the knife out of shocked Derek's stomach.

 _Fuck fuck fuck_.

"Come on babe, just end him now, we got more fun waiting for us. In there" Jessica said, still giggling and laughing but sounding slightly nervous now. She came closer and closer now, stepping out of the shadow of the wall, only a couple of steps away from Connor and Derek.

"Rekie?" she asked, widening her eyes.

When she was really close Connor prepared himself to push Derek's body away to use the knife and throw it at her instead. He tried to look to the right without actually turning his head, desperate to find a decent way out of the line of fire as soon as shit hit the fan.

"OH MY..." Jessica then started yelling when she finally connected all the dots, saw the blood and her boyfriend's twitching figure.  
Connor already initialized the shoving motion. Jess raised her gun to..

BANG.

A loud gunshot.  
A spray of blood.  
A bullet, going right through the woman's head, sending her hat flying away.  
Her eyes were still widened from the sudden impact and shock, but she was already dead.

Connor was equally shocked by the suddenness of it all, but then he acted purely on instinct, and that _right away_.  
He clung to Derek's lifeless, bloody body and then let himself fall backwards, dropping to the ground, while pulling the body on top of him, then not moving at all. Pretending that he had been shot along with them.

A split second later multiple people turned around to see who had been shot by the sniper on the roof, the blonde haired woman they had thought to have shot right in the very beginning.

"THEY KILLED DEREK AND JESS!" someone screamed somewhere behind Connor, someone who had turned around only one second after the Irishman had finished his _play dead_ act. Two people came running and quickly checked the bodies, but only superficially because the sniper still kept shooting at the area all around Connor.

"KEEP GOING! WE'RE NOT GONNA GIVE UP NOW!" someone else shouted, obviously taking over the leadership role.

Leaving Connor lying there on the ground, the bloody bodies of Jess and Derek covering him, making them look like a pile of dead, making them uninteresting to the others now. He knew it wasn't that smart and certainly far from dignified, but right now it did the job. He needed to keep himself out of the line of fire long enough for him to come up with a decent plan, or at least until the other attackers were too busy attacking his friends, until there was a fitting time window for him to get up again and leave to help them.

And maybe he also needed the moment to stay here, just lie here, stop fearing for his life, stop fearing getting shot for just a moment. Maybe he just needed to lie here and let his body recover enough to get back up and fight, defend his town. Because he knew that in this very moment he wasn't ready to fight again yet. He was soaked in blood, he was suffocating, he was in incredible pain, the pain and fear for his brother's and friend's life was killing him, he just needed a moment to gather his thoughts, get himself together, get ready to fight again. So here he lay, exhausted, covered in blood, frantically contemplating and trying to come up with a plan, it _was_ disgusting, it wasn't dignified, but at least he was still _alive_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to spoil you in the beginning cos I didn't want to kill the surprise, so here's the additional note for you at the end of this chapter.
> 
> BE PREPARED FOR MORE HEAVY CONNARYL IN SOME FUTURE CHAPTERS, BITCHES. SHIP'S NOT ABANDONED. IT'S ALL BUILD UP. Lol, I'm so sorry about leaving you shippers hanging for so long though. The reunion/Connaryl alone time thing STILL hasn't happened yet, although it's been almost ten chapters since the last true Connaryl thing.I'M SORRY. JUST TRUST ME ON THIS. BE PATIENT. :D I know I suck as a slash writer. Forgive me. lol.


	29. Pine Vista

He was actually surprised to see how long he'd been able to fool Murphy. The sun had risen already, heralding a brand new day. Daryl kind of knew where they were, that they were on the right track, that they were getting further and further away from Woodbury. The mess there.

The dead.

Maybe he'd been able to fool Murphy for a while. Tell him that they'd run pretty far, that they'd gotten far away from Woodbury, that it took a while to get back. Maybe Murphy didn't know the truth about how they were still getting further away from it, by the minute. But although he was being fooled, it didn't mean that it did him any bad. It was almost grotesque and even funny to watch how determined the younger MacManus was, how he was so _certain_ that he was going to find his brother again.

Scanning the tracks along with Daryl, walking to the left and right, left and right, looking at trees, trying to read the trails and tracks although he didn't have a freaking clue about what he was doing. But he was still trying to help Daryl find Connor, still trying to find his brother himself. The fact that he didn't know how to track and read tracks just made it easy for Daryl, who kept pointing out tracks that weren't even really there.

It was funny, but at the same time, it actually just broke Daryl's heart even more.  
It made him hate himself even more.

He could almost hear Connor call him out on this bullshit. Maybe even punch him in the gut or smack him up the face for telling his brother lies.

_Veritas._

That's what he'd tattooed on his stupid hand.

He'd been all about the truth, and now here the hunter was, telling lies and never stopping that.

They found the first bunch of corpses not long after sunrise. There were a couple of walkers by the rail tracks, sitting in the dirt, eating away at the bloody mess they had left there. Daryl recognized some of their victims, recognized the clothes, a face here and there. Those people had been from Woodbury, too. They had made it pretty far out here, at least until those walkers had caught up with them. There even were two kids amongst the devoured.

Daryl pressed his lips together and flexed his arm muscles.

It was such a fucking mess. It was pointless. So now not just Connor was dead. He was pretty sure that they were just going to keep finding corpses like that all around the surrounding woods. Daryl raised his crossbow and shot two arrows at the first bunch of walkers. When the rest of them heard the noise they immediately looked up with dangerous snarls, hands still bloody, half eaten flesh hanging from their mouths.

Daryl just stood and stared right back, a part of him incredibly angry and violent, the other was just emotionless and pretty much dead inside. The sight of his dead friends didn't even hurt anymore. The whole Woodbury massacre from yesterday had made him numb. When the walkers got up he almost wanted to let it all unfold, to wait for them to get _really_ close before he did something about them as well, but then it was Murphy who approached the undead to kill them with determined stabs to their heads. Once again it was nothing else but creepy to watch how those walkers completely ignored the younger MacManus, wanted to get past him, reaching out for Daryl instead.

It just made Daryl that much angrier. Everything reminded him of Connor, especially this. Because the Irish fuck had been like that, 'invisible' to the walkers after those two bites. He'd _survived two bites_. Survived a disease that had killed billions of people. He'd supposed to be invincible. Where was the logic in that anyway? He could survive the impossible, a suicide attempt, two bites, a harsh winter, everything, only to get fucking shot or stabbed by some random psycho stranger?

It was so _unfair_.

Daryl just stood and watched Murphy take out the rest of the walkers. The younger MacManus then jogged around the scene of bloody mayhem to check on the corpses and just make sure Connor wasn't among them. "Well, at least we can be certain tha he wasn' here" Murphy said, rubbing his mouth, once he realized that his brother wasn't one of the corpses. Daryl wanted to snort. Of course Connor wasn't here. He was probably already rotting away back in Woodbury. Bloody. Motionless. Dead.

Daryl just threw his crossbow over his shoulder again and turned around to start walking, to get away from this mess, the last reminders of their former town. He just wanted to leave it all behind, ignore it, deny its existence, maybe even leave the entire fucking country. He kept walking for a moment until he noticed that Murphy wasn't following him. When the hunter turned around he was surprised to see that the younger MacManus was kind of just standing there in front of the bodies, hands folded, chin resting on his chest, eyes closed, rosary trapped between his hands.

He was praying for their lost souls.

Daryl wanted to punch someone.

"The hell you doin?" he snarled and walked back, almost aggressively, which Murphy didn't notice because his eyes were still closed.

"'s it look like 'm fuckin doin. 'm praying fer them. Someone's gotta give 'em peace and send them on their way. They were part of our group."

Daryl snorted in disgust, which finally made Murphy look at him with an angry frown.

"Prayin ain't gonna do shit for them now, is it. Sure didn't ever do shit for you or your bro" Daryl muttered and wouldn't change the look on his face.

Murphy just frowned even more.

"The fuck's yer problem?" he asked while Daryl turned his back on him again, only to turn around once more to keep looking at Murphy because he was fed up with it.

"Your stupid religious bullshit's my problem. If we spent half the time you're wastin here prayin for dead people on actually lookin for your bro, we would've found him ages ago! Cut the faith crap out. Prayin's just gonna get us killed. Waste of time" Daryl spat and got closer and closer to Murphy during his speech, face red with anger, gesturing wildly, like a trapped animal. He just wanted the guy to shut up. He was fed up with it, with everything, how everything had been so utterly pointless, how none of it, not the immunity, not their friendship, not even Connor's blind faith had saved him, how Murphy was repeating the same old bullshit now, too, like nothing had happened.

"Yer such a fockin asshole, I _am_ looking fer him!" Murphy yelled right back and shoved Daryl hard. "I spent all fuckin morning lookin fer him, I'm not the emo crybaby wannabe who spent all night staring into some fire insteada doing something! Yer the one getting us fuckin lost with his fake-ass 'tracking' skills!"

Daryl clenched his fist hard and was only seconds away from punching his look alike hard in the face. He even lunged out a bit but then froze in the spot, because he couldn't do it. He knew that if he really gave in to his anger and hatred now he wouldn't be able to keep the lie up, he was going to yell the truth right in Murphy's face just to shut him the fuck up and hurt him the most. But it was the truth that he didn't want to speak it out, because then he would make it ultimate, undeniable, real.

He barely managed to stop himself but then he did, relaxing, if just a tiny bit.

"Let's just go" he snarled and then quickly turned around to get moving again, before he did anything he just knew he was going to regret later.

* * *

Out of all the places they could've found, they had to come across the golf club again. It wasn't like Daryl hadn't known that it was around here somewhere, they'd been close to the road he and Connor had used after all, when they had been on the run from those psychos. It was grotesque to see how everything looked _exactly_ the same, like nothing had happened, which shouldn't be too surprising after all, considering that he and Connor had only been here a couple of days ago. Just a couple of days ago, everything had been pretty much fine. Connor had been very much alive the last time he'd been here.

And now? The hits just kept coming. Because there it was, the golf card, the fucking thing Connor had made jokes about.

 _Dude.  
No.  
_ _Dude._ _We totally gotta take that one. I so wanna see ye drive a fucking thing like this.  
_ _Hell_ _no_.  
 _Hell_ _yeah_ _. I'm totally gonna try that shit out, later._

Only that later had never come for him, because he was fucking _dead_.

Daryl was so sentimental and hurt right now that he even considered doing it, getting on there to drive it, start yelling at the sky, waving his middle finger at it and asking his friend if he was fucking happy now. But of course he wouldn't do it. Not just because it was silly and stupid, but also because it was pointless. He didn't believe in life after death. Didn't believe that there was some bullshit like heaven or 'a better place'. Never had believed in it. They didn't go anywhere as soon as they were dead. Merle was nowhere. And now, Connor was also nowhere, too.

He was just gone.

Daryl forced himself to no longer look at the thing and headed straight for the entrance of the building instead. Murphy froze in place and looked at the hunter's back with a frown, getting more and more suspicious.

"Te fuck are we doing here? This ain't Woodbury…" he asked, looking around a couple of times because he didn't quite get it. All their zigzagging all over the place ever since they had abandoned their camp over at the prison yesterday night had kind of confused him and made him lose his orientation. All he knew was that they couldn't be _that_ far away from Woodbury. He didn't recognize this place right here, had never even been close to it. Almost two days had passed now and it still didn't look like they were anywhere _close_ to their town.

Although most parts all around them had looked exactly the same with the empty abandoned roads and woods there was something inside Murphy that got him wondering, made him question the whole thing now, if Daryl was even leading him in the right direction, if he even knew where they were going now. What made the whole thing just even stranger was the fact that the hunter now really entered the building which seemed to be the main complex of the ' _Pine Vista Country_ ' club, which the younger MacManus could read on that old, green sign in front of it.

Just like the many times before Daryl just ignored him and kept walking, which just forced Murphy to follow him, although he kept looking back at the road, wondering where the fuck Woodbury was located and why they would enter a building they had no real interest in right now. "Hey! 'm fuckin talking ta you!" Murphy then shouted and jogged after Daryl, still confused, angry, worried, and just plain tired. He wanted to keep complaining but then it hit him as soon as he got inside, the incredible stench that filled the entire building. He had to cough and almost gag because of the smell.

Countless bodies were lying around what had once been the dining hall. He could still see the rotten, half eaten food on the plates, the glasses and wine. It looked like there had been a massacre going on inside here, like all these rich people had been slaughtered not too long after the outbreak. All these people looked like they had been executed. There even were a couple of cut ropes hanging from the ceiling with bodies lying on the ground not to far from it, indicated that they had been hung there and that someone had cut their ropes and put them out of their misery. And to top it all, there was a woman in the room next door, he could see her right through the open door. A woman with the lower half of her body missing, with a sign nailed to her chest. RICH BITCH it read.

"Why the fuck are we checking this place out? We gotta…" Murphy asked with an angry frown, not just furious because the smell annoyed him, but also because he was more and more fed up with the way Daryl acted. Just a couple of hours ago the stupid redneck had been yelling at him when he had stopped to mutter a quick prayer for their lost friends, and now he was doing that shit, wasting more precious time inside an obviously abandoned golf club.

What just made it worse was the fact that Daryl didn't even seem to be cautious, he didn't check if any of the supposedly dead bodies on the ground could be walkers or not. He just went straight for the tables and bags to gather as much stuff as possible. For a moment it even looked like he was taking dollar bills from a female corpse's purse.

_What a fucking **scumbag**._

Daryl wouldn't let him keep talking though, because he suddenly raised his voice and interrupted him mid sentence.

"Me 'n your bro came across this place a couple of days ago, when we burned the first bunch of bodies and went to check out the old fella's farm you got those pigs from. He said it'd be a good place to haul up, minus the massacre. Maybe he got his ass here since it's closer to Woodbury than the prison" Daryl growled, once again lying because the golf club was actually further away from their former town than the prison. But it wasn't like Connor's stupid twin brother knew anyway. The only truth about his little rant was the fact that his friend had indeed commented on this place, that it had once been one of the better places to stay at. Maybe they could even spent the night here….

"And why the fuck would he drag his ass ta a fuckin golf club, that's just retarded. Why wouldn't he stay te fuck close ta Woodbury and wait fer us t'come and…"

"Cos the sonofabitch's smart enough to get his ass far away from the place that's now inhabited by psychos with machine guns and tanks who also pretty much slaughtered everyone we knew."

"Or maybe this _sonofabitch_ was smart enough _not_ ta move his ass away from tha town because he's injured and fuckin sick and knows that we're gonna come looking fer him. And the longer we go from one random place to the fuckin next just ta cover up the fact that ye don't know _jackshit_ about where we are, the more likely's gonna be that he's gonna fucking die waiting fer us!" Murphy snapped right back, raising his voice more and more with each sentence.

They were close to getting into a fight for what felt the millionth time today, and although Daryl gritted his teeth and clenched his fists he wouldn't attack this time either. He had to keep it down, had to keep it in because his plan was obviously still working. Murphy really still seemed to believe that his brother was fine, the hope was still there in his eyes.

Daryl pressed his lips together and stared right into them, contemplating what he should do since Murphy was obviously waiting for a fight and a reaction, and he was actually surprised to see that _honest_ hate in his look-alike's eyes as well.

He wasn't used to that anymore. Not that kind of fighting, not those kinds of looks of unfiltered hatred and disgust. His entire group had loved him. Appreciated him. Their looks had turned from disgust over his 'filthy redneck' stigma into true acceptance, respect and appreciation. And now they were all gone. Connor's kindness, patience, wit and obvious devotion and maybe even fucking love was gone, too, never to be seen in those eyes again, the ones he had shared with his brother.

Maybe he needed that, no matter how much it hurt.

Maybe he needed to get back to all that. Constant fights both physical and vocal. Constant looks and words of disgust. No sissy bullshit and quiet moments. This was his old life coming back to him. He, the quiet, aggressive, frustrated loner. Accompanied by someone who was stuck with him because fate wanted it to be that way. Now it wasn't the 'blood' thing that forced him to stay together with a guy who didn't even like him that much and who he had nothing in common with at all, like it had been with Merle, now it was just the 'shared interests' thing. The fact that they both loved the same person.

"'m gonna check the other rooms, do something useful and actually look for your bro insteada moanin all day long" he just muttered and then turned around to quickly get away once again.

Murphy actually stayed where he was instead of putting up a fight and looked around the dining hall, a bit helplessly if he was honest. But right now he was fed up with the following the stupid redneck, he even turned his head a little bit to look in the general direction of the entrance door, considering whether he should leave without the hunter to go right back to Woodbury. He could just feel it in his guts. He knew it. Connor was still there.

Murphy looked back and forth between the entrance door and the other one Daryl had exited the dinning hall through and then kicked some random trash out of the way, muttering a quick, stressed and annoyed curse. He then started walking instead, hoping to find some sort of shop or tourist info those clubs usually had to hopefully find some sort of map at least, to really see where they were before really deciding his next move with or without Daryl.

* * *

He just went from room to room for a while, zigzagging his way through dark hallways and corridors. The truth was that he didn't even really know what he was looking for, maybe he was already getting lost, couldn't differentiate between what was real and what was the act he had to keep up for Murphy. Maybe his subconscious still thought that this was him searching all these rooms to look for Connor, just like he had told the younger MacManus after all.

Or maybe this was just him trying to keep his distance from Connor's brother for a bit so he could take his time to come up with a new lie, a new, plan, a new destination to fool him and keep him going, keep him with him. Maybe this was him even running away from the undeniable truth, because he knew his time was running out. It wouldn't take long and Murphy was going to figure it out. Pretty soon now anyway, because he just kept asking questions.

Even now Daryl turned around from time to time, hoping to see the younger MacManus follow him again, still unsuspecting, because he got more and more freaked out that this was it, that this was Murphy leaving to go back to Woodbury without him, to find Connor there, see him the way he had seen him.

Daryl knew one thing for sure. He wasn't going to go back there. Not ever. He didn't want to see any more of his friends dead. Didn't want to see his best friend like that ever again. He also knew that he should probably head right back and go looking for Murphy to prevent any of this, but right now, he just couldn't. He needed to be alone, he needed to turn everything off, he needed to…

The hunter frowned a little and walked a couple of steps back the moment he realized what he had seen inside that kitchen cabinet.

There they were.

Countless bottles of alcohol. The hard stuff. The fancy golf club member poser bullshit stuff, like champagne and shit.

Daryl wanted to snort, but all he did was chew on his lips as he stared at the countless bottles, contemplating this.

And suddenly, all his thoughts from last night seemed that much more plausible again.

 _Maybe he should just stay…_  
Sit here.  
Be on his own.  
Close to the woods.  
Sitting in the grass.  
Inhaling the scent of the grass and earth and wood.  
This was where he belonged after all.  
This was what he was supposed to care about.  
Hunting. Survival. Nature.

 _You need t'grow up. Things are different now. There ain't no such things as friends, little D._  
 _Remember how things were back at Atlanta, hm? The looks they were givin yah, how they kept laughin behind your back, called yah some redneck trash? They just used your huntin skills, didn't keep yah around for company. Blondie ain't your_ _friend_ _outta the goodness of his heart. Ever notice the fact that yah look just like his own little bro? Hell, I saw the picture. He ain't keepin yah around for no chitchat._ _They're using yah. We're here t'do their dirty work. Nothing more, Darylena._

 _Why the fuck did he even want to keep Murphy?_ Merle was right. In the end, they had all been using him all the time.  
To get their food. To track shit down for them like Murphy needed him to track Connor down now because he was too stupid to find his way around Coweta county.

He remembered those last bunch of looks he'd exchanged with Connor. Or more like, Connor had exchanged with him and _Murphy_. How he'd tried to keep the stupid annoying fuck on the safe side and off the wall, how he'd been fooling him just as much to keep him safe. Connor had never done this for him. He'd never fooled him to make him feel better. Quite the opposite. He'd used him to make _himself_ feel better.

Connor had been the one to start their 'friendship' simply because he shared Murphy's face. Connor had been the one to constantly keep him company. Not because he wanted to be his friend and wanted to make him feel better. No. The fucker had even called him Murphy during the first couple of weeks and pretty much denied his entire fucking personality and existence. And only weeks after he had found his stupid brother again he had opted out. Left him.

Connor had also been the one to start that stupid gay bullshit. And why? Because he'd been a loser with women because of his fucked up codependent relationship with his brother. The guy had even admitted that himself.

He hadn't even cared enough about him to stay fucking _alive_ for him.  
No. The fucker had done what he always did when it got hairy. Opted out. The easy way.  
Told him to look after his brother for him because he was too pathetic to do it himself.

And now Murphy wasn't keeping him company out of the goodness of his heart either.  
He was being used because of some guy's brother once again.

 _Fuck_ that shit.

He knew it was stupid and dangerous, but right now he didn't even care because he was so angry.  
He headed right for the cabinet and grabbed as many bottles as he possibly could.

* * *

He couldn't believe this shit.

Murphy stared at the map with wide eyes, the veins in his forehead pounding and making his headshot scar burn with pain, but he didn't even fucking care. It had taken him quite some time to deceiver some of the words, read them although he could hardly read with the brain injury and all, but after some concentrating and thinking hard, he had been able to read a few town names and words. There he had it. Black on white. Or green and yellow or whatever. But there it was, on the map. The fucking truth.

This stupid golf club wasn't closer to Woodbury at all.  
The opposite.  
They were pretty far away from Woodbury now.

Now it was no longer an odd surprise that they hadn't been able to get back to their town even after more than 24 hours had passed. Now it was no longer a surprise that that 'shortcut' had led them through acres and acres of nothing but woodland, why they hadn't taken the roads instead. Daryl had been leading him _away_ from Woodbury. Used the trees and hills as a distraction and not a shortcut.

Now it all made sense. Why that stupid redneck had acted like that all the time. All moody and pissed with his stupid speech about faith and religion. The guy didn't even believe that Connor was alive anymore. Probably had given up on him right from the off, maybe didn't even care about him anymore. It really was no surprise. The way Murphy had seen him treat Connor all the time.

Maybe his brother had really loved or liked this stupid redneck or whatever. It was kind of understandable in a fucked up way. Daryl did happen to have his face after all, and there was no denying that Connor loved him very much because they were twin brothers. Of course he had to love an other guy with the same face as well.

But Daryl?

He remembered all that talk, all those passive reactions and all the denying. Daryl had always made it obvious that he didn't just think that he was annoying, he'd obviously found Connor annoying as well. The way he called him leprechaun all the time or insulted their nationality and all that crap.

He was a hillbilly redneck after all.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.  
He'd lied to him all along. He'd tricked him into that agenda of his.  
He'd tricked him into abandoning and leaving Connor, just like he had done it.

All Daryl had ever done now was try to survive and be all fucking macho. He probably only kept him with him and tricked him into staying with him because he knew that no one was going to survive on their own for long in this new fucked up world. He needed someone to watch his back. He needed his immunity stuff to protect his own ass. Not Connor. Never Connor.

He couldn't believe it.

Because of Daryl, he was doing the same thing to Connor now. The same thing he'd blamed him for, ever since they'd found each other again.

Abandonment.

Because of Daryl, he had left Connor to die. All alone. Bloody, sick, injured, in desperate need for help. Back then he had been that one, bitten and almost dead, back in Boston. Connor had left him then, although he could forgive him now. And now here they were. Switched roles. Now it was Connor lying on some dirty floor, injured, almost dead. Back in Woodbury. And he wasn't there for him. _What if he thought the same now? What if Connor thought that he was still mad at him because of the Boston thing? What if Connor thought that he was purposely doing the same thing to him now, leave him there to die, to take revenge?_  
  
He wasn't like that. He didn't want Connor to think that way. He had forgiven him weeks ago. They'd only just gotten started again.  
To get to know each other, to get better again. He wasn't fucking like that.

Murphy grabbed the map angrily and turned around with wild eyes and heaving chest to go look for Daryl. That fucker deserved one hell of a punch for that. Maybe this was even the part where he could finally kill him, simply because there were so many things wrong with that guy.

 _He_ had been the one to make Connor turn his back on god's word and indulge in terrible gross sins.  
 _He_ had been the one to turn his back on Connor the moment he had been in trouble.  
 _He_ had been the one to lie to him and trick him into abandoning his own brother along with him.  
 _  
_Murphy pretty much rounded the entire building and roamed through its dark corridors with a furious look on his face, cautiously checking each room and getting angrier with each empty one that he found. He already suspected that this was the part where he was going to find out that Daryl had abandoned him, too, after all, and right now he didn't even know if this was supposed to make him happy or just even more furious.

He used the time he was busy searching the rooms to come up with a decent accusation, the right words to call the hunter out on this bullshit, but in the end, he knew that he wasn't good at the whole planning ahead thing and actively channeling his emotions the right way. He knew that was just going to explode in a minute anyway so he tried to rile himself up even more, until he finally, finally found the hunter.

Sitting in front of the club's bar.  
Out of all places.  
Out of all the things the guy could be doing, like keeping up his fucked up game of pretend that he was still looking for Connor so he could lure him far enough away from Woodbury or leaving without him to abandon him as well, out of all the things Daryl Dixon could be doing, he had to be sitting in a bar. Boozing it up.

Although he knew it was a stupid thing to do because of the noise involved Murphy still couldn't help but kick the door open as hard and loud as he could.

"So did ye really think I wasn' gonna find out what te fuck yer playin at?!" he spat as he entered the room, map still in his hand, face red with fury. And just like before Daryl actually ignored him once again. He wouldn't turn around or answer, what he did instead was lift a bottle to his mouth so he could drink some more, like he was on a vacation, like this was all fun to him and like they didn't have anything else to do or anywhere else to go.

"You said this fockin place is closer ta Woodbury than the prison and ye said ye knew a fuckin shortcut, but this map says that we're halfway close ta fucking Columbus'n not Woodbury! That's the other fucking direction!"

Daryl snorted and almost slammed the bottle on the table.

"Yeah? 'n I remember that last time yah stupid fuck tried to figure out navigation crap on your own yah got lost only five miles away from our doorstep…so do us a favor…" Daryl answered and finally turned his head to look at Murphy. It was obvious in his face and the way he moved that he was both drunk and also incredible aggressive now. "Keep yah trap shut if you don't know shit 'bout Georgia anyway, you big city faggot mick."

Murphy narrowed his eyes and already opened his mouth to snap back but then Daryl suddenly got off the bar stool and wiped two empty bottles off the table until they crashed down and fell to pieces on the hard ground, the clattering of breaking glass echoing through the abandoned corridors and halls of the golf club.

" _I'm_ the one who knows how t'track, 'm the one who ain't from some shithole town like Boston, _I_ know where the fuck we're goin cos this is _my_ town'n _my_ state, _I'm_ the one keepin your whiny ass alive so _I_ say where the fuck yah going."

Daryl said and grabbed his crossbow, until he suddenly started chuckling. It didn't sound like an amused chuckle and it certainly didn't sound like he was having fun, it sounded dangerous even, and it was so grotesque that Murphy even forgot to rant or fight back for a minute, because all he ended up doing was watch Daryl perform this strange prick-ish act of his.

"That's all the two of yah stupid fucks can do, right? Yah just gotta have someone to tell yah where t'go and what t'do and yah just gotta have someone t'watch your pathetic asses cos yah can't get it up in a world like this. And even if people are there for yah, you just gotta fuck it up and suck at survival like a bunch of pussies anyway. 'Look after my bro' here and 'look after my bro' there, bullshit, just an excuse for yah t'hide the fact that you're completely fuckin _useles_ s here!" the hunter snarled with that drunk, disgusted and furious look on his face as he slowly came closer to the Irishman, riling himself up more and more.

"And this is exactly the fuckin reason why you ain't got no say in where we are or where we're goin" Daryl added and then fished for Murphy's map to rip it out of his hands and then tear it to shreds in front of his face. "Cos _I_ ain't the wimp outta the two of us. I don't need no one t'tell me where the hell we're goin. I don't need no one for protection and trackin and I sure as hell ain't gonna need to rely on no one for anything, never have, never will, unlike you or your stupid, _pathetic excuse for a brother_."

"What te fuck are ye…" Murphy finally managed to shout back and already prepared himself for an ugly fight because it looked like Daryl was about to throw the first punch. Or maybe he wanted to throw the first punch because the hunter's pathetic words made him incredibly aggressive as well, he didn't know, he just wanted to get it over with. Murphy lunged out but was even more surprised when the hunter actually simply shoved him out of the way instead of getting into the fight he'd been provoking all day.

"Oh look, yah brought a couple of your lamebrain buddies with you, how fun" Daryl said, actually slurring his speech because he was already drunk from the little but hard alcohol he had consumed. He shoved Murphy out of the way and almost presented himself to the two walkers that came staggering down the corridor to get to the bar. Although the hunter did have his crossbow in his hand it didn't look like he was about to shoot it right away.

"Maybe I can join that club of yours, huh? Be all fuckin look-at-me-invincible with your weirdo-crap immunity bullshit" Daryl ranted and walked backwards as the walkers came closer and closer. The hunter kicked an overturned chair out of the way and then finally fired an arrow at the walker, only hitting him in the knee on purpose. "Not like it's of much use 'n didn't help much, you're pretty much dead anyway, right?"

Another arrow, this time in the second walker's chest which made her stumble a bit, but then she kept coming just like her limping undead 'friend', heading right for Daryl. "Only time that immunity crap was of use was back 'n Augusta, maybe I should've brought yah stupid fucks back there, at least then your death wouldn' be so fuckin pointless, huh? You like that Mr Faithful?"

Another arrow, and it still didn't look like Daryl was about to actually kill these walkers.  
He just kept riling himself up more and more, his face getting redder by the minute.

"Y'know what? Why don't yah give it a shot? Show how much you suck at that with your fake-ass 'I know what the fuck I'm doin'? See, another thing your bro sucked at. Shootin anything other than your silly toy guns, all hat 'n no cattle. Guy always wanted to shoot my crossbow, y'know, and when he did, he fuckin _sucked_ at it. You wanna come here 'n tell me I don't know what 'm doin, fine, show me the ropes then, jackass!" Daryl said and suddenly stopped shooting arrows and lowered his crossbow. He started walking and completely ignored the walkers in front of him, as he obviously targeted Murphy once again.

He kept looking at the younger MacManus with that almost insane look on his face as he mindlessly tried to get past the walkers to hand over his crossbow, but then Murphy already reacted. Because he didn't just see a drunk Daryl that was completely beside himself, he also saw the walker that was grasping the hunter's arm and who was only split seconds away from burying his teeth in the hunter's neck.

Murphy immediately drew his Beretta and fired two shots, in the heat of the moment. The bullets penetrated the walkers' heads and only missed Daryl by a couple of inches, and right now Murphy didn't even know if he would've cared, should the bullets have hit his lookalike. But they didn't, all they did was hit the walkers and kill them, making them drop to the ground. Liveless, no longer a threat. Daryl stilled for a moment and looked down at the corpses, his ears ringing from the gunshots.

"The hell'd you do that for? I was havin fun!" he eventually shouted and fixed his eyes on Murphy again, who finally lost it as well.

"What te fuck is your problem?!" the younger MacManus spat and buried his fist in the hunter's face, which made Daryl stagger and then fall because of the impact and his drunkenness. "You fuckin knew we were goin in the wrong direction! Ye fuckin led me here just ta get fuckin drunk, are ye really such a fuckin piece 'a shit that'che… are ye really just gonna sit here 'n pity yerself all fuckin day? Do ye really not care 'bout him and where he's at? I mean ye fuckin _saw_ Connor and what they …."

Daryl, who had been busy awkwardly wiping the blood off his mouth while trying to get up suddenly turned his head and glared at Murphy.

"Cos you know all 'bout caring 'bout him and where he's at? You didn't give a shit 'bout him like less than two weeks ago, so don't tell me I ain't done nothin for him!" the hunter spat and managed to clumsily get back up. "You ain't been there for the past year, you don't know shit 'bout what I did for your bro so stop actin like you're some dumbass king of the world just cos yah randomly felt like poppin up in his life again!" he yelled and then shoved Murphy hard once more. "I did EVERYTHING! Everything I could, and now everyone I know is dead!"

"You don't even fuckin know that for sure cos all ye fuckin do is run away like a fuckin chicken! Ye never even _tried_ ta fuckin go back! Ye fuckin played me with yer shortcut bullshit!" Murphy yelled back and shoved Daryl just as hard. Both their eyes were filled with nothing but aggression and hatred for each other, but it was Daryl who looked especially distraught. So much that he couldn't even throw a punch anymore. He was all about yelling now.

"Might as well be that way cos guess what, your bro _is_ dead! And you ain't ever gonna see him again!"

Murphy just stared right back at Daryl, his eyes widening slowly. The hunter paused for a moment and then the look on his face changed, he looked sadder by the second but the aggression wouldn't go away.

"Yeah you're right. I saw Connor and what they did. I climbed that stupid wall and he was just lyin there on a pile of bodies and all bloody like he got gnawed on by those undead fucks out there. You wanna know why I don't care 'bout him and where he's at and why 'm goin in the other direction? Cos all that's left of your pathetic stupid bro is a pile of rotten flesh. You get that? Huh? You gonna cry like a little bitch now?"

"You're lyin" Murphy managed to gasp, but the words had already hit him like a train. He had wanted to punch Daryl just to shut him up, but he couldn't even move anymore. He just stood and stared, right into the hunter's eyes. Daryl visibly staggered and looked like he was close to losing it, but the drunk state he found himself in wouldn't release him just yet. He even ignored Murphy's shaky answer, it didn't even look like he had heard it or paid attention to it anyway.

"Cos that's all he did, all goddamn day when he found him. Son of a bitch had it comin with his annoying fucking bullshit and…" Daryl ranted and then kicked at another random chair, only to turn his back on Murphy. He was quiet for a while and when he did speak again he didn't sound so aggressive anymore, he sounded almost broken.

"You remember that beheaded soldier guy in Peachtree? Or did'cha see that one woman with the sign around her neck in the shop here?" he asked after a very long while, and although Murphy had indeed seen that corpse with the 'rich bitch' sign when he'd gone looking for Daryl, he wasn't able to give an answer right now anyway. He was too shocked by the news, too paralyzed and downright horrified.

For some reason all he could hear over and over again where the words _Guess what, your bro is dead! And you ain't ever gonna see him again!_  
  
"He figured it out right away, when we first got here. He….he kept tellin me that it's all connected, that it was them, we should've killed them…The executions, the massacres, it was all there. And all I did was tell him that it ain't Boston and none of your saints crap…"

_There were about twenty people, slaughtered and hung, an entire group. Sharpsburg, Peachtree, te club, that's all real fuckin close ta Woodbury. And right now with the Flu going on and all that bullshit, we're not exactly prepared fer a surprise visit from a group with fucking army trucks and heavy artillery. All I'm saying is, we should take care of it and pay them a visit before they pay_ _us_ _a visit next. We got children, we got sick people._

That's what Connor had told him. Right here. Just a couple of days ago He had been to used to ignoring Connor's endless ramblings, his paranoid talk, his bible-banging psycho crap and his past as serial killer. Only that this time, his friend's gut instincts had been right once again. . And it was exactly that what broke Daryl now.

"Maybe….maybe if I said no when he wanted t'check that stupid old farm out…maybe then they wouldn't have seen 'im or found us. May…maybe if I had listened to him and gone back to kill them I could…maybe I could've stopped this" Daryl admitted and finally turned around again to look at Murphy, now no longer angry or violent but actually absolutely devastated.

"And now they executed your bro just like Peachtree guy and that dumb dead bitch down there…and that's on me" he said, louder and angrier this time while he pointed at the door, vaguely aiming in the direction of the store where he knew the woman with the sign was. He was actually surprised to realize all this. Up until now, he had done everything to keep it in, to pretend, to blame everyone and everything for Connor's death, blame Connor himself and Murphy especially. But he knew the truth and now it had been spoken out.

It was all his fault. He knew that now. Just like the many many times before Connor had told him, Connor had made it obvious that it had been important to him, Connor had trusted him, and he had ignored him. Left him alone at the wrong time. Just like back on the farm he hadn't been there to keep him safe, and now he had the result.

He had lost Merle. His real brother. It had been painful, it had nearly broken him, but the only thing that had kept him going had been the Irishman. Connor had pretty much become his new brother anyway, right from the start. Then it had turned into more. And now here he was – a broken man – who had not just lost his entire real or new family and brother. Now he had also lost his soul mate. Because of his own doing.

And he couldn't help but finally agree with his own fucked up father. He was the reason everyone died. He was the reason why his mom had died in that fire because he had snuck out to play with children he wasn't supposed to play with. He hadn't been there to take the cigarette out of her mouth once she had passed out. He hadn't been there to stop the fire. He knew that his father had always blamed Merle for it, but he knew the truth now. It was _his_ fault. Then, he hadn't been there to stop those walkers from attacking his father in the woods, and he hadn't been able to put him out of his misery either.

Sophia was dead because he hadn't been there to search the right area, because he'd found that house and that creek too late. Merle was dead because he hadn't been there to stop him from going out to kill the Governor. And now Connor was dead because he hadn't listened to him, because he had left him alone in Woodbury instead of looking after him.

He was a waste of space. A failure. Who got people killed, who kept disappointing everyone no matter how hard he tried. Like he was disappointing Murphy now.

"No! You fuckin liar!" the younger MacManus roared and shoved Daryl once more, making the hunter's back connect hard with the bar behind him. The hunter winced but did nothing else, he let Connor's brother do whatever he wanted because he thought he deserved it anyway. All Daryl did was allow himself to let that first whimper escape his mouth because it was getting too hard to fight the tears, the grief, and it was only getting harder because Murphy pretty much started weeping himself right from the off.

"He ain't fuckin dead! We don't fuckin know that for sure you fuckin piece of shit, I'm gonna kill yah!" the younger MacManus roared and kept shoving and trying to punch Daryl, but his crying and sobbing made it hard. Daryl would laugh if he wasn't so upset himself, because Murphy looked kind of funny like that. He had an ugly cry face but it wasn't pathetic, it wasn't even the whiny kind of crying. Those were angry tears. Although the Irishman let himself go and didn't seem to care about how he looked or what other thought about his crying it wasn't the weak movie kind of crying. Even now he still had to throw that fit, channel his incredibly aggressive emotional side that was so unlike his brother whenever he had cried for whatever reason.

"You didn't check and I didn't see so stop talking that bullshit he ain't fuckin dead I know it cos I'd feel it" Murphy ranted and screamed and yelled without break or pause, still crying and sobbing, still shoving and punching, his voice already hoarse.

Daryl wanted to stay aggressive and violent as well but he had pretty much lost the fight already, to everything. He wasn't quite sobbing yet but getting closer and closer to it. All he could do was go back to his past teen self in that moment, flinching at every punch and pulling his arms up in front of his chest, trying to helplessly dodge the blows like a kid that was getting beat up by too many bullies at once.

Murphy finished his own emotional breakdown with a hard punch to Daryl's gut and then a final shove, until he suddenly turned around, buried both his hands in his black hair and pulled with a harsh loud sob, then he simply exited the room with a quick determined pace. Daryl wanted to go after him, maybe to explain, maybe to comfort, maybe to fight back and give the younger MacManus some sort of payback for the harsh blow to his gut, but all he managed to do was slide down the bar as he held his belly in pain, not just from the punch but also from the terrible grief.

Now that Murphy was gone and he was all alone with his thoughts and utter self blame he finally allowed himself to really cry, to weep and mourn his best friend's death that he thought was his fault. The alcohol in his blood made it easy for him to let go, to feel, to let the subconscious slip and dominate him.

* * *

The sound of a car engine startled Daryl and made him look up. He felt like shit and looked like shit because of his crying fit, but none of that mattered, because then he heard it again. The roaring of an engine, echoing across the otherwise so quiet property of the Pine Vista country club.

Daryl widened his eyes in shock, then there it was, the _steady_ noise of the engine, of a car starting to drive.

"No…" he gasped and immediately sprung to his feet, grabbing his crossbow, stumbling a bit because he was drunk.  
But that didn't matter and he knew that it hadn't been a hallucination either, because it was right there.

"NO! COME ON! M!" he started yelling and ran faster and faster, clumsily avoiding overturned furniture down the corridor, running against it and making it fall down, stumbling a bit, until he finally reached the dining hall, the exit door there. He burst through the door and nearly fell to the ground again, simply because his exit had been so forceful.

Daryl look around the parking lot in terror, right, then left.

He only caught glimpses of a dusty car driving around the corner, leaving the golf club parking lot to get back on the street.

"M!" Daryl yelled at the top of his lungs, hoping to drown out the roaring dusty engine of the car, but the vehicle just picked up speed and disappeared behind the trees that blocked further sight on the street. The hunter broke in a desperate sprint and chased after the car.

He knew that this was it, that this was Murphy leaving him to go back to Woodbury and see for himself and after that – probably leave Georgia altogether. Maybe to go back to Savannah to that other group he'd been before, probably to go wherever he wanted. Daryl just knew one thing: he was going to lose the younger MacManus if he didn't catch him and stop him from leaving.

The hunter ran faster and faster, trying to chase after the car that sped down the road and back towards Woodbury, but it soon became obvious that there was no way in hell he was going to catch him. But it didn't matter, Daryl kept running and running, his crossbow banging painfully against his back with each step, his heart pounding, the fear making it go faster and faster.

He couldn't let this happen. Couldn't let this happen, he thought with each painfully exhausting running pace. He couldn't make it through this. Didn't want to be alone. He was fucking sorry for saying all this, knew that he was a dick, he cursed himself for breaking the news. Although it had felt freeing at first, the no longer carrying the knowledge that Connor was dead on his own anymore, but now all those feelings of being free were completely destroyed by what was happening, unfolding.

It hurt beyond reason to know that his best friend was gone. He was absolutely broken. Close to fucking dying himself. But if there was one tiny thing that had kept him going, then it had been the fact that he'd had Connor's brother with him. He had fucking _promised_ Connor to look after him. He couldn't disappoint his friend even more, couldn't abandon him even more.

But here he was, Murphy, leaving him, driving away from him.

So Daryl kept running and running, ignoring the stabbing pain in his lungs, his shaking legs because of the constant running, lack of food and sleep and the general exhaustion, he ignored the pain of the slapping crossbow against his back, he just kept going, running and running, down the abandoned street, although the car had long since disappeared.

* * *

**About an hour later….**

He was pretty much at a jogging pace right now. He also knew that he'd probably be faster if he just walked. Daryl was breathing so hard and loud that he pretty much expected a herd of walkers to come out of the bushes and attack him, attracted by the noise, and probably the smell, considering that he was sweating like he was a running waterfall. He was almost having a heart attack from all the running, the sheer emotional turmoil and downright torture he'd had to endure in less than 24 hours.

He was also pretty sure that he had the worst bruises in his life, on his back, from the constant slapping of his crossbow.

For the past god knows how many minutes, he'd forced himself to keep going like that. Running for the most part, sometimes jogging, sometimes walking quickly to catch breath, but most of the time, just running.

He had lost track of the trail miles ago. There was just the never-ending road that led straight ahead, under the burning sun, surrounded by trees and an occasional car wreck. There was not a single sound except for his heavy breathing and the angry shouting of the voices in his head that called him a pathetic loser who couldn't keep track of anyone, who got people lost and killed, who nobody wanted to stay with anyway, the voices that laughed at him and told him that he was all alone now, in this fucked up dead abandoned world, that it was his fault, that his constant pushing and his attitude had driven everyone away.

Daryl tried to keep going, telling himself that at least he knew where to go, to go back to Woodbury although he didn't want to, he tried to keep telling himself that he was going to get there in time to stop Murphy from leaving, to find the last person he had left in this world now, no matter how much he disliked him.

In the end he knew that it was all worthless. He knew that he was too far away from Woodbury already to make it there in the little time he had left, the curse of his previous attempt to keep Murphy as far away from it as possible. He knew that by the time he got there, all he was going to find was Connor's body once again, right in front of the wall, lifeless, bloody, maybe even beheaded and with a sign around his neck, left for display, the way those bastards had done it before.

After god knows how many minutes or even hours of running, Daryl finally stopped and came to a halt, chest heaving, sweat running down his face, his wet hair glued to his forehead as he looked around the abandoned street. He stopped and stared until he finally dropped the crossbow to the ground, signaling defeat.

Then he did the next thing, drop to the ground so he could just sit there, desperate to catch breath. Everything hurt, his feet and lungs from all the running, his head from the drinking, his back from the crossbow. Although the constant stress from the running was no longer there and although he finally allowed himself to rest the breathing just didn't get any easier for him, quite the opposite, it was getting harder and harder, like there was some rope strapping itself around his neck and like there was someone behind him, pulling it harder and harder to suffocate him. Because then it hit him. The silence. The abandonment.

He was the only one left breathing here, that hard, that loud. And even if he stopped that breathing now, no one was left to care about that either.

Here he had it now, his wish from yesterday night or even earlier today.

He was sitting here.  
He was on his own.  
Close to the woods.  
Sitting close to the grass.  
He could smell the scent of the grass and earth and wood.  
This was where he belonged. He, the hunter.  
Hunting. Survival. Nature.  
That was all he had left now.

Hershel was gone.  
Rick was gone.  
Carl was gone.  
Judith was gone.  
Maggie was gone.  
Beth was gone.  
Glenn was gone.  
Michonne was gone.  
Andrea was gone.  
Carol was gone.

Connor was gone.

And now, even Murphy was gone.

He was the only one left.

Even months after the outbreak, he'd been so determined to be on his own. Constantly snarling at everyone and everything, constantly fighting everyone and everything. All his life, he had secretly wished to break free, live his own life, make his own decisions, be on his own without anyone else, and now he had it. He had spent so many years trying to prove everyone and everything how tough he was, how he could survive on his own, take care of himself, how he didn't need anyone, not even society to keep him alive, that not even undead people could kill him. No gunshots, no torture, no beatings, no bar fights and stabs.

Here he was. Alone. The last man standing.

He stared at the ground, still trying to catch breath, but the realization just kept crushing him.

He had lost Murphy.  
He had lost everyone and everything.

For the first time in his life, he actually really wanted to fucking die as well. It was too much to bear. It hurt more than any of his father's beatings, it hurt more than losing his parents, his brother, more than anything he had ever experienced in his entire fucked up, painful life.

Daryl just stayed right where he was, right in the middle of the road and kept breathing, kept staring at the ground, doing absolutely nothing anymore, giving up.

* * *

He was vaguely aware of the sound of growling and dragging feet, but he was too zoned out to care, too zoned out to differentiate between what was real and what was just his imagination. For at least a couple of times he'd thought to hear a car, only to find that there was nothing there as soon as he looked up. Daryl knew that all of this was probably just his subconscious playing tricks on him, trying to get him to move, or just trying to fulfill his deepest wishes. And right now, he wished for many things, just blankly staring at his own legs, the mental breakdown and shock still in full effect.

He wished for their old world to come back right now, really hard this time, for the first time since the outbreak. He would even trade all of his memories of the past year, including everything he had experienced with Connor, their relationship, their friendship, their progress, their getting to know each other, he was willing to trade all that and forget all that, if only he could go back to life before all this, before the pain and the unbearable loneliness he felt right now, even if it meant going back to a life filled with abuse under his drunk father and drug addicted brother. Because the truth was that this fucked up pre-outbreak life and pain was nothing compared to what he was feeling now, what shocked him so deeply and rendered him motionless, shocked.

Then he also wished for just the last three days to undo themselves, wished for Woodbury, Rick and his group, Murphy and Connor to come back, he even squeezed his eyes shut and that hard, trying to force it to become real. In the end he just resumed staring almost lifelessly at his feet again, head bowed as he sat there on the empty street, hair stringy and wet from his previous running, thinking about all the things he could've had.

Now that he had lost everyone and everything, now that he had lost Murphy and Connor, he was also painfully aware of everything he had wanted all along, everything he had missed because of his own stupid attitude and behavior, everything he had lost with his failure to keep Connor from dying.

He knew that he had really really fucking _loved_ the guy. He'd never felt this before, but for some reason, he knew that it was like that. He'd had much trouble with all of that society standards bullshit crap, the way he'd been raised by his parents, his family, the media and society in general. It all was so fucking pointless, so stupid and trivial, and he couldn't believe that he'd let that get in the way of it all, that he had denied himself that when it still hadn't been too late yet, but now it was too late, because Connor was dead.

All he knew was that he wouldn't fucking care anymore if it was considered 'gay' or 'unmanly' and 'wrong' and 'gross' or whatever. In the end, it had always been simple. He had loved the guy. He had wanted it to be a friendship. A relationship. Connor'd been the first person to give him that chance, to make that possible, and he'd screwed that up simply because he'd been too concerned about what others would think about them, simply because he had listened to standards of a society that was long since gone now.

And Murphy. No matter how annoying he was, no matter how despicable he'd been, that stupid kid had been the little brother he never knew he'd wanted to have.

He'd had a family.

And now they were gone.

And that was exactly the reason why he had that other wish right now.

He wanted to give up.  
He wished for death as well.

He knew that despite his entire fucked up past and all the obstacles in his life, he'd always been a fighter, he'd never allowed himself to give up because he considered it weak and despicable, because he'd been so determined to show everyone that he was strong and capable, that he was better than everyone else. But what was the fucking point now if there was no one left to show, no one left to impress? Even he had his goddamned breaking point.

Which was why he simply ignored the growling and dragging footsteps of a possible herd now, which was why he let them come right at him now. He even squeezed his eyes shut to try and kill the hallucination sound of an approaching car once more, reminding himself that it was just the echo of the leaving car back from when Murphy had abruptly left the golf club without him. He just waited, carefully reaching for his crossbow.

It wasn't like he was going to go out without a fight. It wasn't like he wasn't going to take at least a couple of undead bitches with him. There was just a difference between fighting a herd and killing a bunch of walkers to survive and blow off steam, and fighting a herd and killing a bunch of walkers without the intention to survive it.

So he waited and waited for the dragging sounds to come closer, his ears ringing from the previous running and exhaustion and the mental anguish. He was just waiting and waiting for the dragging sounds to come closer, until he finally did open his eyes, did raise his head and did turn it to face what he believe was his final battle.

All he did in the end though, was stare.

There was a single bloody figure staggering towards him, although there were a couple more further behind it. Daryl couldn't see or hear that clearly anymore because the sun had been burning down on him for at least 1 ½ hours now and because he was so exhausted, tired, thirsty, hungry and in shock from the attack on Woodbury, Connor's death and Murphy's departure. And although he couldn't really make out what was going on a bit further behind the figure he could still make that one out almost clearly.

The shirt that was red and almost brown from all the dried blood on it, the dirt and blood all over the skin there, the holes and gaps in the shirt and jeans from a previous struggle, the dragging sound of clumsy heavy feet on the ground, the heavy sound of breathing that sounded like snarling or failed clearing of a nose.

But then there were the more obvious little things.

Blonde hair.  
Tattoos.  
The bloody one of the Virgin Mary, on the side of a cut, injured neck.  
A bruised and badly swollen black eye.  
A dangling rosary.  
Shuffling towards him, sounding like a walker, looking like a walker.

Daryl laughed once, although it didn't sound joyful, it sounded almost insane and broken.

Of course. Out of all the things that could've happened, after getting close enough to Woodbury in hopes to find Murphy again, he had to find _Connor_ again.  
And of course he had to be one of them, part of them now.

He remembered Augusta, remembered the things Connor had told him after talking to Smith or any other doctor.

_At the moment we just know that my blood can stop an infection and the turning process, but we don't know fer how long and how in general._   
_I could still turn fer all we know right now. No one knows fer sure._

He remembered Connor telling him about the experience of seeing Murphy stagger towards him like that, when he'd thought his brother to be dead and turned. Only that the same thing was happening to him now. Connor kept staggering towards him like that, shaky on his legs, unsteady and slow with those terrible noises escaping his mouth as he got closer and closer to him, while Daryl awkwardly tried to get up with a stifled and yet angry sob, leaving the crossbow there on the ground.

Just like back then with Merle he needed to do this with his knife. Daryl staggered like hell because of the alcohol, exhaustion and sheer heartbreak but eventually managed to get up just in time before Connor's staggering, bloody figure got too close. "You son of a bitch…" Daryl managed to press out as he desperately tried to fight the tears of sheer anguish over seeing his best friend like that, but there was no way in hell he was going allow himself to cry in front of Connor, it didn't fucking matter if he was turned or not.

Although the hunter wanted nothing more than really break down and cry over this sight he forced himself to stay upright and gathered himself, worked himself up to get as angry as he possibly could, because just like with Merle there was no way in hell he was going to leave Connor like that. Another single pain filled sob escaped his mouth and then he dove forward, lunging out with his hunting knife, prepared to stab Connor right in his head, the swollen, bloody and bruises eyes which he could hardly make out anyway.

That was really the worst part, not only seeing Connor turned and part of them, but also seeing Connor like that, beat up, possibly tortured, shot, cut and stabbed by those psychos that had overrun their town only one day prior all this. Daryl hated himself for not being there to prevent all this, prevent Connor from getting violated like that, keep him from dying and turning because of all that.

All he could do now was end it and ease it, so he did it with a final now incredibly angry sob and lunged out, blade only a very few inches away from the man opposite him when suddenly, a fast but rather weak hand grabbed him by his wrist, mid air, to stop him. Daryl stilled and widened his eyes in surprise, still mad with rage and grief until he finally seemed to get it and actually looked down at his hand, the wrist there, trying hard to get what was going on there. The hand that was wrapped around his wrist to stop him was bloody and dirty as hell, but he could still make it out.

The tattoo on the index finger that spelled 'Veritas'.

Then he finally managed to look up again, the shaking knife still pointed at his opposite's face, high in the air, trapped between them, but it didn't matter anymore. The noises that escaped his opposite's mouth still sounded like those of a walker because they were so miserable, dry, shaky and strained. He still looked like a walker because of all the blood everywhere, the weird color of parts of his skin, the dirt everywhere.

And it was exactly that what confused the hell out of Daryl, what shocked him even more.

Because this couldn't be fucking happening. It wasn't fucking rational. A walker couldn't stop him from stabbing him, not even a smart walker Connor could stop him and he knew it. He startled at the next string of happenings and movements and already prepared himself for the sudden sharp pain of a bite to his neck, and maybe a part of him even welcomed the thought of this kind of death right now.

But it never happened.

Although bloody Connor twisted his arm a bit and made him drop the knife, and although he closed the final distance between them that final bite never happened. What did happen though, was the wrapping of arms around Daryl's torso, closing behind his back and pulling, no matter how weak and shaky it was, it was still there, the hug, then the breathy but broken and quite little chuckle into his neck instead of the bite.

Daryl was still too shocked to do anything but stare with wide eyes but then he saw it too, in the distance, the car there, the one he'd heard but thought it to be a hallucination. Murphy was back there, stabbing the last walker of the dragging mob Daryl had heard earlier, too. His look-alike obviously just now noticed that Connor had left the car with its door wide open, left the car to stumble over to Daryl, who they had seen just sitting there on the road, head down.

There were a couple of walkers lying around in front of the car, obviously killed by Murphy, an event which had kept the younger MacManus twin from joining the scenario that was happening between Connor and Daryl right now, but it was still going on without the younger MacManus anyway. Daryl's eyes were still widened and fixed on the car and Murphy but then it happened, he felt how the older MacManus brother put more and more of his weight into their hug, since he was obviously having trouble keeping himself upright now and didn't just need the hug but also the support.

Daryl finally knew how to breathe again and inhaled once, suddenly alarmed by the smell of copper on Connor's clothes and skin, all the blood and dirt his friend was obviously soaked in.

He had mistaken his friend for a walker because he was in a _terrible_ shape. Bloody, beat up, probably half dead already. And he knew that Connor would be dead if it weren't for that son of a bitch by the car, that son of a bitch who had run away from him more than an hour ago, who also had that alarming look on his face now and came jogging towards them.

But here Connor still was, clinging to Daryl and hugging him, still chuckling all wet and miserable into Daryl's neck because he couldn't believe this shit either.

" _You son of a **bitch**_ " Daryl repeated and finally responded to the hug, hugged back so hard that it hurt his friend and made him, gasp, but he didn't even fucking care right now. He buried his face in his friend's bloody and dirty shoulder which forced a whispered reproachful "Ow, ye fuckin asshole" out of Connor, but Daryl was unable to respond, all he did was return the hug and cling to his friend for all it was worth, held him so tight it almost crushed him, then he became a bit desperate and clung to him because he wasn't alone, because Connor was still alive and breathing against him. _  
_

* * *

Dunno if you have seen it yet, but look at what Sean did during Boston Walker Stalker:  
  
  
:D

 


	30. Square One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo. The good news! I'm done with all my exams! Wohaaay! I'm done with all my work! Wohaaaay! I got two months of spare time! Wohaaaay! Which means: a faster update rate from now on! And another exciting message. We're only maybe one to three chapters away from some more delicious Connaryl. And also, more saintly action. We're now hitting the final part of this fic, the last story arc, and just like I said, it won't take me three weeks to update anymore. I now got the time.
> 
> So here's a new chapter, and here's to more future Connaryl (steamy and not steamy, really looking forward to that)
> 
> Some readers on ffnet said that it's a bit boring, I hope you can forgive me!

He was out of it for the most time. Passed out, against his will. The bloody bodies of Jess and Derek were still covering him, making them look like a pile of dead. The shooting had slowly stopped by now. There were a few gunshots every now and then, but it had gotten uncomfortably quiet by now. Connor gulped a little and forced himself to not cough although he desperately wanted to. He even raised his head a tiny bit, ever so cautiously, trying not to attract any attention.

There was no one there. Just dead bodies everywhere. A few smoking piles of debris. Broken down cars. A tank that was half stuck in their wall that had partially toppled over from the previous ramming attacks. The first thing he noticed was that he was incredibly tired. Tired and sick. He felt sick, wanted to gag even, simply because of the blood loss, the smell of it all. It smelled of burned corpses. Of blood and burned gunpowder. The smell of war was in the air once more.

Connor only vaguely remembered what had happened. It had happened so fast, everything had been so chaotic, and most of all, he was seriously fucking exhausted. He tried to move a tiny bit, forcing himself not to grunt under the weight of two bodies on top of him. In the end he did wince though, because his abused body sent one burning wave of pain after another right through his abused limps, is torso, his neck that immediately started bleeding again, from the cut, the sheer abuse of the torture he'd had to endure.

He could see Hershel's head not too far away from him, when he turned his head a little in a clumsy attempt to get rid of the bodies on top of him. Connor looked back and forth a couple of times, cautiously eyeing the smoking broken wall, cautious in case some of these motherfuckers were going to come back out here. But there was no one, so all that was left for him to look at was Hershel's bloody head.

A head that was still moving and groaning. Groaning just like the other couple of shuffling figures that were slowly exiting the surrounding wood area again, stumbling out of surrounding alleys, having been drawn in by the shoots of the previous showdown.

No one had shown mercy.

Connor felt a stab to his heart, because once again, he felt incredibly guilty. It wasn't just the physical pain that was there from the countless beatings and the almost execution scenario he had found himself in earlier, it was also the guilt over Hershel's death, the man, whose head was just lying here now, dropped like he was useless trash. Connor stopped his moving for a moment and squeezed his eyes shut, not just in pain, but also so he did no longer have to look at the mess he felt responsible for, but it was useless, because he could still see the images.

When he'd been tied to that chair inside the shed. Hershel right in front of him. Looking at him. When that psycho had cut his head. He immediately felt his own cut pulsate again but it only felt just, it only felt right, because he couldn't believe that he hadn't been able to prevent this. He should've broke free back there. He should've killed them all. Before they had managed to kill Hershel like that. Before they had managed to cause all this mess.

Connor immediately opened his eyes again, the anger filling his limbs enough to get him going. He successfully managed to get the bloody bodies of Jess and Derek off of him, the one person he had gutted, the other person who had been shot in her head before she had been able to do the same thing to him. For the first time in his life, he had wanted to kill a woman. Shoot her himself. But it was too late. He didn't waste any time on crossing their arms and giving them pennies or any of the things he would've done before all this, back then, when he had still been a saint.

They no longer deserved that. He was no longer like that.

Connor did let out a little painfilled cry because his entire body _burned_ with pain, and he could do nothing else but crawl towards Hershel's head, bloody, slippery knife still in his hand from back when he had stabbed Derek. This was something he owed Hershel, no matter how painful it really was. He continuously looked back at the wall, really hoping that there was no one there to interrupt him now, and when he did reach Hershel's severed head, he actually had to swallow hard. It was painful in so many ways. The swallowing motion was painful because his neck burned from the cut and because his abused lungs burned from the infection, but this was nothing compared to the pain he felt over seeing Hershel like that.

Hershel had always reminded him of his own father.  
They had always looked alike.  
Hershel had been a better father figure to him than his own father had ever been.

Hershel had been the one to cautiously look after him all the time. Back on the farm, when he'd been half starved to death or when he had tried to kill himself. Back at the prison, when he had saved Daryl's life or just yesterday, when he'd tried to get him through this cold with his stupid elderberry tea. He remembered their countless talks about god and religion. Hershel had always been kind. Always been wise. Always been a father.

And he had failed him.

There was nothing left of him now. Just a reanimated head, with cloudy eyes, a pale face, and a bloody mouth. Connor reached out for the remains with bloody, shaking hands and then placed his tattooed left one on the side of the head, gently, trying to make it better and apologize somehow, although he knew it was completely useless. With his other right hand he just grabbed the bloody knife tighter and raised it a little, still looking at Hershel with an incredibly sad look on his beat up face.

"'m sorry, Hershman" he said, gently using his old nickname for the man on purpose.

He truly was sorry.

"They're nat getting away with this" he then muttered and stabbed the head, ending Hershel's painful state as beheaded walker once and for all.  
Connor did gasp not just because of the stabbing motion but also because the deed hurt in general.

He hated it when people he cared about died.  
Because of him failing to save them.

The little kid Tabby back in Boston.  
Lori.  
Merle.  
Hershel.

And almost…..

Connor widened his eyes a little, immediately turning his head to look back at the wall.

Murphy and Daryl.

He remembered the last time he had seen them. Staring right back at him with wide eyes, before that knife had cut him. Standing there.

On top of that wall that was now collapsed.

Connor turned his head again to look at the head he had just stabbed and pulled the knife out, once again looking at Hershel with a sad look on his face. He then used the left hand he had placed on the old man's cheek to close his eyes, closing his own eyes for a second and muttering a quick prayer. Then he just got angry. Angry and determined. The Irishman forced himself to get back up but did end up grunting and almost yelping in pain because it hurt so much, but he desperately tried to get himself back into that state again, that focused state where pain didn't matter, the way he'd been taught. He even pressed his bloody tattooed hand to his mouth to shut himself up and then limped away from what was left of his former friend Hershel, silencing his painfilled grunts and heavy coughs as he started walking and searched the ground for another weapon.

It wasn't exactly hard. There were many bodies lying around here, in front of the wall, having obviously being shot by sniper Andrea and people like Rick and the others. The whole thing had turned into a bloody massacre, and Connor had caught only glimpses of that before he had passed out. He limped back towards the bloody pile that was Derek and Jessica and then grabbed the woman's AK-47 and her boyfriend's pistol, which he clumsily but in the back of his jeans.

He knew that he actually wasn't in any sort of shape to go back in there and fight. Somebody probably just needed to touch him and he was going to pass out and fall over. Although he was tough even he couldn't deny the fact that he was in so much pain he actually felt like crying, but none of that mattered, because now he remembered. Murphy had made it off the wall before all this. Daryl had jumped off the wall just before the bullets had started raining down on them. Even if there was only the slightest chance…he needed to go back in there and find them.

Connor limped back towards the side of the wall, knowing that there was no point in going in there full frontal. He needed to be smart about this.  
He needed to acknowledge his weaknesses. The only way was their secret way in and out. The way he had shown Daryl just like two days ago.

He was pretty much leaning against the wall for the most of it, dragging himself along it, continuously looking back and forth, keeping a look out on any possible attackers. Sometimes he felt like blacking out, and he did slam his clenched fist against the wall more than once to kill the endless waves of pain, but in the end, he just grabbed the assault rifle tighter and kept going, leaving thin trails of blood on the wall.

He had just shown Daryl that secret way in and out. Just two days ago he'd been walking around out here like that, completely fine. It made him so incredibly angry. It killed him not to know where his best friend was, where his brother was, and it annoyed him beyond any reasonable proportions that he had to be so injured and ill when he'd been fucking fine just two days ago. He knew that he should say that he was used to it, he'd gone through that kind of thing many times before after all, be it because of his work as saint or his constant fight for survival after the outbreak. But even though he was used to it, it certainly didn't mean he liked it.

Connor dragged himself all around half their town, limping towards the tunnel system, already dreading the crawl through there, that, and whatever was waiting for him on the other side.

* * *

Woodbury was a mess.

Connor helplessly staggered down main street, already dragging his feet because he could hardly walk from all the exhaustion, the blood loss, the pain. Although he was still cautious and kept the gun in his hand, kept his head somewhat low and stayed close to the terrace front of their houses, it certainly looked like he didn't even need to do that anymore.

Woodbury looked abandoned.

There were countless corpses lying on the street. There were burning piles of debris. Many of the doors had been ripped open, there were clothes and other stuff lying on the street like they'd been thrown out and searched. That, and an awful lot of walkers. Well, it certainly wasn't a herd yet, but there were enough walkers in here to indicate that there was no one there to care about them. Some of the walkers had obviously been drawn in by all the gunshots they had heard, others, he did recognize. The door to the building he'd been kept in was wide open, indicating that whatever had been going on while Connor had been unconscious, more of their flu infected people must've turned and left the building, because they were here now as well, staggering around the devastated town, lifeless, aimless, staggering around for the sake of walking.

Some of the dead people in the streets were also people he knew, shot in their backs and heads on their desperate attempt to get away from the slaughter.  
There were other shot people Connor did not recognize, people with guns still in their hands, people who had obviously belonged to the attacking group.

Whoever had been left alive after this chaos in here….had left Woodbury. Simply because of the state the town was in. It was too destroyed and chaotic for any small group to keep it up and back up running again, and whoever was left had been smart enough to leave this hot zone. They knew more walkers would be coming anyway. It always worked like that. Connor kicked a few corpses to turn them around, looking around more and more, his head spinning from the overwhelming look of it all, the smell, the sudden knowledge, the facts and most of all, his own injuries.

"MURPH?" he eventually finally allowed himself to shout, immediately coughing because he wasn't exactly doing his inflamed lungs a favor with that. Connor immediately somewhat pressed his back against the wall and grabbed the AK-47 tighter, his hands still shaking violently from the exhaustion, but he was still ready to start firing as soon as someone came out of the surrounding houses, prepared to continue the battle.

Nothing happened.

Well, some of the walkers did turn their heads and automatically staggered in his direction with furious snarls, obviously attracted by the noise but not being able to find anything they considered food, because he was covered in his blood, the blood that carried his immunity.

"MUUUURPH!" Connor shouted, louder this time, coughing once more and cautiously approaching the middle of main street a bit more, but still.

No answer.  
No reaction.  
Just the gentle howling of wind that echoed through empty buildings, the smell of fire and death.

"DARYL? MURPH? ARE YE THERE?" he shouted but then suddenly tripped and collapsed, falling right down under heavy coughs. He hadn't been even prepared for his legs to suddenly give in, but here he was, in the midst of this chaos, now all but muttering his friend's and brother's name, lifting his hands, still holding the gun, up to his face so he could shield it and grasp his hair with his fingers.

"Fuck" he muttered, the full weight of the situation suddenly crashing down on him. He turned his head a little to the right only to be greeted by the look of a shot child not too far down main street. Marie-Ann. One of the children he'd taught how to use guns during story time. Shot in the head. Even their training hadn't been of much use. Carol had warned him. He had warned Daryl. And yet, it had happened.

"Fuck" Connor said once more and squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head again so if he opened his eyes once more, he no longer had to look at this mess. Everything had gone to shit. They had been overrun. Twice. First by walkers. Then by raiders. They had been torn apart, stripped bare, left to die. Whoever had survived this, they had all left. Leaving him here. All alone. In this abandoned, blood-soaked town. "MURPH! DARYL!" he yelled a final time, at the sky, but no one was answering. And he finally did allow himself to let everything crash down on him which made him sob, as he saw the images of all the people who had been killed, remembered his own deeds, remembered that he found himself in his worst nightmare.

He was all alone again. All alone in an abandoned, overrun, destroyed town.  
Without Murphy, without Daryl, without anyone but the undead at his side.

He was back to square one.

* * *

He woke up because it started raining, with heavy but few rain drops falling right into his face, his eyes, his mouth. Connor coughed once and snapped his eyes back open, only to find himself still lying on the ground, just down main street, still in Woodbury, with even more walkers staggering up and down the road. Thankfully none of them had paid attention to him but they still crept him out, especially when he really managed to open his eyes and found himself facing one, a woman that was kneeling next to him and just staring at him like that, close to his face, almost curiously, continuously sniffing and snarling, moving closer only to get away again, like she couldn't quite figure out whether she should bite him or consider him one of their own.

Connor flinched and immediately tried to get away, just making her snarl even more, but even now she still wouldn't attack him. Connor started coughing again because the flu was still there, and because some of the rain drops had poured into his mouth and nose, and when he finally managed to somewhat get a hold of himself he lunged out and hit the walker in her face with the grip of his Ak-47, making her fall back and him lose grip of the weapon.

Connor landed on all fours and kept coughing, watching some of the blood leave his mouth and run down main street with the flow of rain water, then it hit him, the sudden harsh nausea that made him gag and then vomit. The stench from the walker that had been so close to him made him do it, but also his concussion, his injuries, the exhaustion and trauma.

Connor threw up everything he had left in his stomach, mixed with blood and spit, once again watching it get washed away by rain. He immediately just wanted to collapse again but forced himself to keep upright because he didn't want to land in his own vomit, needed to keep himself upright because he just knew he wasn't going to make it otherwise.

Then he started shivering.

It was getting darker and darker, not just from the quick shower, but also because it was almost nightfall. He knew he needed to get off the streets. No matter how much he hated it. If he stayed here and it really started to pour down, he was going to get soaked, and his cold was going to kill him. He knew it. Connor immediately tried to shout for Murphy and Daryl again but his voice was too hoarse to let anything remotely understandable out, so all he had left was to drag himself towards the buildings, trying to get away from the walkers, the rain, the budding stench of rotting dead and undead corpses.

For the most part, he was already out of it, just mindlessly dragging himself along, shuffling, stumbling, making it look like he was already a part of the undead herd. Maybe he even was, he wondered, trying to raise his numb, shaking bloody hands a bit, to look at them, make out what he was. _How the hell was he supposed to know anyway,_ he thought, and suddenly started laughing, only to cramp up and wince because it hurt. He knew that the fever, shock and injuries made him act like that, almost out of his mind, but he actually truly wondered. _What if he had died? What if he was dead and one of them now? What if his immunity had turned him into this and he just didn't know the difference? He sure looked half-dead_ , he pondered, when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the windows.

Part of him was so exhausted that he even _wanted_ to join them. He was just so incredibly _tired_. Of everything. Losing people all the time, being on his own again, not knowing where Murphy was once again, how he was doing. There was no Daryl to keep him upright, no other people to tell him what was real, that this was real, that this was what was happening. But of course, he remembered, his feverish mind making him look up a bit, making his shaking feet keep walking.

Murphy and Daryl.  
He needed to find Murph and Daryl.

That's why he was walking. Not because he was a walker, but because he needed to find them. W _here were they again? Right. The buildings._ Connor staggered around and finally managed to get out of the rain, away from the walkers, stumbling into the building that had been closed with the sign 'QUARANTINE' taped to it. The building where everything had started.

He didn't mind the blood on the floor. Didn't even mind anymore how hard it was to get up the stairs. He had already reached that state of mind where he was almost delusional, where his own mind tried to trick him that this was just any other ordinary day, that this was him coming home to Murphy and Daryl, those two guys with the same face. In the end he was pretty much out of it by the time he reached his and Murphy's old apartment, the one they had lived in until the flu outbreak. He fell into the bed, letting out one exhausted grunt, only letting out one weak groan because it hurt too much, curling himself up.

He heard the rain clatter against the window pane, the only sound he had left now, and when he opened his eyes a final time, fighting the dizziness and how everything was spinning, he did find himself facing a picture by the old table lamp. Two smiling figures. Two brothers. He could see himself and Murphy, with that little shy smile, but it was still there. Sitting on the hood of a car, under the sun, close to the prison. It was the sight of the picture that momentarily snapped Connor out of his feverish state, made him want to get right back up again.

Murphy.  
Murphy and Daryl.

Of course they were not here. If they weren't here then he needed to go back out there and find them… The meeting point…the emergency protocol…the prison… Go back out there and find…them…

He could no longer fight the exhaustion and drifted back off into unconsciousness once more, the vision of the picture on the nightstand blurring more and more as Connor lost his consciousness once again.

* * *

He woke up early next day, under terrible cramps and in terrible pain. Connor felt like he'd been thrown into a bathtub filled with razor blades, blades that had kept cutting his body all night, marking it with nothing but pain, only to try and soothe it with the heat of liquid lava. The fever almost seemed to make him go crazy. No matter how hard he tried to at least cool his face somehow, he was just burning hot, burning so hot that he felt cold and started shivering, a fever that made him see the most horrible things during that night.

He saw countless bodies, the utterly terrifying distorted faces of his friends with their bloody bodies clinging to the ceiling, he heard Hershel's headless body stagger and rumble up the stairs, only that when the door was ripped open, he was facing a bloody, undead Murphy, a pale, bloody Murphy who was staggering towards him with that stertorous breathing escaping his mouth, those wide eyes that were covered with blood from a fresh shot wound to the head, one he had inflicted.

And by the time that terrifying figure of bit and shot Murphy managed to stagger towards him, backwards, it was suddenly Daryl who pressed a gun to his forehead, ready to shoot him because he was going to turn, because there was zero tolerance for walkers, because there was no way for him to tell Daryl to stop because he couldn't move, because the fever had paralyzed him, made him look dead.

The most horrible images and hallucinations tortured him during that night because of the fever and flu, because of the guilt, because of the sheer terror of having to be here on his own, in an abandoned shot-up, town. But the truth was that no matter how horrible that was, Connor knew and appreciated the true meaning and purpose of those nightmares that kept him awake and stopped him from truly falling asleep.

Although the fever had pretty much made him go out of his mind by now there was still a sane part of his brain left, the sane part that told him that if he gave in now and really allowed himself to fall asleep and ignore the nightmares that kept him awake, he wasn't going to survive this. He couldn't fall asleep again, and no matter how many hours it took and no matter how much energy he wasted trying to get back up, Connor eventually did manage to get out of bed, did manage to blend out the nightmares. All he had needed was some rest. Just some rest. No sleep. No matter how much he wanted that.

He grabbed the picture and forced himself to get out of bed and stumbled towards the door he'd seen hallucination Murphy enter through earlier, because he knew that this was the only way he was going to find _real_ Murphy.

Real Murphy was out there, he kept telling himself.  
Real Daryl was out there.  
He just needed to find them.

he just needed to keep walking.

He wasn't going to die today.  
Not in here.  
Not now.

* * *

"No!M!" he could hear Daryl scream somewhere behind him, but Murphy did not care. He pressed his foot down as hard as he could, accelerating more and more, hoping to get back to Woodbury as fast as he possibly could. He clumsily tried to hold the map in his one hand as he steered the car down the road. He had simply grabbed a new one from the little tourist shop inside the golf club, since Daryl had ripped the other one in half, right in front of his eyes.

Destroyed it, just like he had tried to destroy him with those words.

_Guess what, your bro_ _is_ _dead! And you ain't ever gonna see him again!_

Murphy sniffed hard once more, pulling back the snot and then quickly wiping his nose with the back of his wrist. For a moment he raised his head a little bit to actually look in the rear view mirror. He saw a tiny spot back there, a moving person, a person who was still shouting for him to stop, desperate to catch up with him, running and running.

Murphy grabbed the steering wheel tighter and startled when he suddenly saw a walker in the middle of the street, ripping the steering wheel to the right so he could avoid the undead. The car lurched a bit with its tires screeching, but the younger MacManus did manage to keep it on the road, still so incredibly determined to both flee Daryl, and find his brother.

_I saw Connor and what they did. I climbed that stupid wall and he was just lyin there on a pile of bodies and all bloody like he got gnawed on by those undead fucks out there. You wanna know why I don't care 'bout him and where he's at and why 'm goin in the other direction? Cos all that's left of your pathetic stupid bro is a pile of rotten flesh. You get that?_

Murphy sobbed once and punched the steering wheel hard, accidently making the horn go off which made him curse.  
He was so fucking _angry_. Because of Daryl, who had fucking lied to him, so many times now. This just had to be a lie. This couldn't be true.

_You didn't check and I didn't see so stop talking that bullshit he ain't fuckin dead I know it cos I'd feel it._

He would _feel_ it. In his heart. In his soul. Connor had told him so much about their special connection. Connor had told him about how he had felt when he had pulled the trigger in Boston, how he had felt for months on end, when he'd thought him dead. Murphy wasn't going to let history repeat itself now. He wasn't going to feel the same thing. Although he was crying, upset, terrified, scared and angry he still would not allow himself to believe Daryl, to do the same thing Connor had done , the one thing that had almost destroyed the both of them, their bodies, their souls, their relationship.

He would feel it.

He remembered that morning in Quabbin Park, when he'd been dreaming about what Connor had ultimately really tried to do to himself. Kill himself. He'd felt that, how he suddenly couldn't breathe anymore, their connection coming back to life. Back then, he had known that Connor had almost died. So he sure as hell would fucking know it if he was dead now. Murphy grabbed the map tighter and hastily tried to make sense out of it, taking a couple of left and right turns, reading a few street signs, recognizing a couple of names.

He just needed to see for himself.

He looked in the rearview mirror from time to time to check, but of course, Daryl was long since gone. He better fucking be. He couldn't believe that the guy had seriously tried to trick him like that. The tiny rational part of him acknowledged the true meaning of it. He remembered Daryl's behavior during the entire past two days. How quiet and strange he had been, then his angry outburst, then the crying. Despite all the talk and acting, the guy had obviously grieved Connor. Not just Woodbury. And the tiny rational part of Murphy let him understand that Daryl had probably only tried to move him in the other direction to keep him from going back, from going back there to see Connor.

_I saw Connor and what they did. You remember that beheaded soldier guy in Peachtree? Or did'cha see that one woman with the sign around her neck in the shop here? He figured it out right away, when we first got here. He….he kept tellin me that it's all connected, that it was them, we should've killed them…The executions, the massacres, it was all there._

Of course he remembered the soldier. Of course he'd seen the woman.  
The younger MacManus concentrated hard, trying to remember everything he had seen back in Woodbury yesterday, when all that chaos had broken out. Connor had been tied up like that. The woman had pressed her knife to his throat. Hershel had obviously been killed like that, too. Judging from Maggie and Beth's screams he had heard. So maybe it had all been connected, and maybe those guys were really those fucked up sickos who loved to execute people. Murphy pressed his lips together and sniffed once more, angrily wiping the tears away.

No. Just because Connor had been on his knees and _about to be executed_ , it didn't mean that they had pulled it through.  
He wouldn't fucking believe it. Not until he saw it with his own eyes.

For a moment he actually considered it though. He had seen the look on Daryl's face after all, he had seen him _cry_ after all.  
 _What if Connor really was dead? What if he was going to find the most mutilated corpse he had ever seen, killed, by those bastards?_

_He was just lyin there on a pile of bodies and all bloody like he got gnawed on by those undead fucks out there. You wanna know why I don't care 'bout him and where he's at and why 'm goin in the other direction? Cos all that's left of your pathetic stupid bro is a pile of rotten flesh. You get that?_

Even if Connor really was dead. Even if he truly didn't want to see his brother like that. He still needed to go back to Woodbury.

_You know what they've been doing before the turning.  
_ _I recognized your face right away when my men found you. You and your brother were all over the news before the outbreak. For months we've been seeing your pictures because of your capture, trial, imprisonment and escape. My men were worried about you when we accepted you as part of our base in Boston. They didn't like having one of the famous Boston Saints in our midst, but I didn't care._

Simmons had told him and recognized him.  
People in Woodbury had recognized him.  
Connor had told him.

Before all this, it had been his job to take out evil scumbags. Murderers.  
And now, it was his job to avenge his brother's death. Should he really find him dead. He was going to murder them. Every last one of them. He was going to avenge his brother's death, he was going to kill them and as soon as he was done, he was going to give his twin brother a proper burial. Connor did not deserve any of this. He wasn't a coward like Daryl. He wasn't going to make the same mistake Connor had done last year. No. He was going to set this right. And although Murphy was crying, upset, terrified and angry, he was still incredibly determined to pull this through.

* * *

He never got to make it all the way back to Woodbury.

He found Connor by the side of the road. Just outside town, close to the prison. In fact, he almost missed him. He looked like any other random corpse they usually found by the side of some road sometime. The sun was burning down on them, making the asphalt visibly radiate heat, the kind of phenomenon that caused mirages. Murphy even mistook it as this at first, blaming his swollen red eyes and the fact that he hardly saw anything on his right one, the heat of the sun, the sheer distraught of having to go back here.

But in the end, it were his gut instincts that somehow made him really _look_ and realize that this wasn't just a shuffling undead corpse but _Connor_ , just by the side of the road, no matter how ridiculous it truly was. Murphy hit the breaks abruptly, making the car stop with screeching tires. He was thrown back from the sudden force of it all and then immediately stilled with wide eyes, looking in the rearview mirror.

There were one or two other corpses by the side of the road. But not like this one. No, this one right here wasn't dried out from lying under the burning sun for so long. This one didn't look like any other lonely walker. He was covered in way too much blood. He was dirty as hell. But Murphy recognized the clothes. Recognized the hair.

Had recognized _the face_.

"Connor" Murphy gasped with wide eyes and immediately threw the car in reverse to get back there, since he'd driven right past his sibling in his craze. He steered the car all the way back, careful not to run his sibling over and then immediately jumped out of the car, even before it had come to a halt. The engine immediately died the moment Murphy's foot left the clutch and the car was still rolling, but Murphy couldn't do anything but jump right out of it so he could be with his twin. Twin, who was right there, still walking, staggering and stumbling, completely ignoring him and the car, looking exactly like a walker.

"Conn! Conn, hey, heyhey" Murphy managed to force out although he was incredibly shocked, running right after Connor until he caught up with him and placed himself in front of him to make him stop walking. He clumsily and shakily placed a hand on Connor's right cheek so he could make him look at him, but his brother seemed to be completely out of it.

For a moment Murphy wanted to cry, his chin even shivering a bit because he was so fucking scared. Connor looked so terrible and acted so strange that he really looked like he was a walker, but he couldn't be a fucking walker, because his eyes were normal, weren't they? Murphy moved closer and tried to shake his twin a little, his heart pounding because of the emotional rollercoaster he found himself in. He wanted to cry because Connor looked like that and because he was scared, but he also wanted to laugh and cheer and hug Connor because he couldn't believe he had found him in general. Not so far away from the prison.

Connor's skin was incredibly hot under his touch. He was practically burning up. Not just because he'd been walking here under the sun for god knows how long, but also because he still had that terrible fever from the flu, the disease they had tried to save him from when they had gone to get medicine. It was the sudden stopping his walking that suddenly seemed to snap Connor out of this strange state, because then his legs suddenly gave in, like if he couldn't keep walking, they didn't have a purpose then.

"Oh fuck, Connor, hey, hey" Murphy kept almost blubbering under two surprised sobs because he felt incredibly helpless, and most of all, scared. He caught his sibling and then knelt down a bit so they could both sit, clinging to Connor as if his life depended on it. He used their body contact to immediately move his hands across his sibling's body and check for injuries, while he continuously tried to snap Connor out of his delirious state. The moment he managed to move Connor's head to the side he just widened his eyes even more, when he saw the cut to his neck. It reached all the way from the side of his neck to dangerously close to his Adam's apple, and although most of the blood had dried by now, it still looked dangerous, red and angry already from the dirt.

Most of the blood on Connor's clothes must've come from there, Murphy was sure of it, although his sibling's clothes were almost too drenched to be all his blood. Especially his entire front was soaked, and Murphy lifted Connor's shirt up just to make sure no bullets or blades had managed to penetrate the blonde's torso. There were no open wounds. No stabs or bullet holes neither on his chest nor his back.

But Connor was truly _covered_ in bruises. It looked like he had been beat up to a bloody pulp. Quite literally. Murphy shakily and quickly checked the rest of his sibling's body for any bullet holes and cuts, but there were only the ones to his arms and to his neck. Other than that he looked 'fine'. If you could call it that. Which was exactly the reason why Murphy pretty much panicked. He didn't get why Connor was still acting like that. So out of it, that he didn't even seem to recognize him or even register that he was here.

Murphy quickly raised his head a little and scanned the environment, actually a bit scared of seeing any of these bastards around now, those bastards who had caused all this in the first place. _What if they had done this to Connor just a little while ago? What if they had left him out here? As bait? What if Connor had been running from them?_ While he had a look around he helplessly kept patting and feeling Connor's cheek, trying to cool it somehow, although his hands weren't exactly cool either. They were sweaty and shaky, and they continuously moved down Connor's chest and abused wrists to check for a pulse and beating heart.

Of course there was a pulse and a beating heart, if only a weak one.  
Of course Connor wasn't a walker.  
No matter how much he looked and acted like it.

It was then when the older of the two suddenly shifted, if just a tiny bit, coughing dangerously raspy, moving into Murphy's supporting embrace.

"Aye, it's okay, it's okay, it's all right, Conn. 'm here" he immediately said, trying to reassure his sibling, unaware of the true meaning of those last couple of words. But it was exactly that what suddenly made Connor raise his head a little as he looked up, finally looked his sibling right in his eyes. "Murph" Connor suddenly croaked, sounding terribly ill and exhausted, but he was still doing it, finally recognizing his voice, his name. Saying it. Looking right into the pair of matching blue eyes and then letting out a broken relieved chuckle. Murphy immediately stopped looking around and looked right back into Connor's eyes, once again quite shocked by how Connor looked with all that blood and bruises, but he was still here, in his arms, looking at him, recognizing him, not a walker, not dead, actually _chuckling_ a bit, no matter how dry and broken it sounded.

He sobbed once but it ended up being that weird kind of laughter as well, and although some tears were running down his face and although he was so fucking scared and horrified he still couldn't help but be incredibly happy as well. He knew it hurt Connor but he could help but grab him and pull him into a tight hug, clinging to him, shaking just as much as Connor although he wasn't shaking from exhaustion but from fear.

"Aye, Yeah, 's me. 'm here. 'm here. It's all right. It's all right, Con" he said, muttering it like a mantra as he stroked the back of his sibling's neck and buried his fingers in his shirt, so incredibly relieved that he had found him as he started rocking him a bit, holding him tightly.

* * *

"You just found 'im like that?" Daryl muttered as he put Connor on the old creaky bed, careful not to hurt him any more.

But it wasn't like Connor would care anyway, because he'd passed out back in the car and didn't seem to notice or feel anything right now.

They had never driven back to the abandoned golf club. Daryl had insisted on it. He didn't want to take any chances, didn't want to drag Connor back to a place they knew those bastards had found a while ago, when they had left the same chaos and massacre behind back there. No. They needed to be some place secure. Some place secluded, which was why he had brought the MacManus twins right here, the place he had found with Michonne back on one of their little scouting missions.

The old shack in the woods, a place that looked just like one of his former homes. He wanted it to be that way. For so many reasons. Because he was used to that kind of place, because he now wanted to keep his distance from large structures like the golf club or Woodbury and the prison, because it was surrounded by his true, safe home, the woods. The moment he had gotten Connor and Murphy back he had made the decision. No more mistakes. No more relying on numbers and size. From now on, they were going to live by his rules and rely on his survival skills. Just so none of the things they had seen during the past couple of months were going to repeat themselves ever again.

"Aye, he was jus by te side of the road, staggering right to-fuckin-wards me" Murphy said helplessly and immediately got clingy again, almost shoving Daryl out of the way so he could get closer to his injured brother. Daryl huffed a little and felt insulted, but figured that it might as well be that way. He really wanted to take care of Connor himself, really wanted to treat his injuries and get him back up again like he had done it last year after his first bite, but the truth was that he would never do that with Murphy around, or anyone else for that matter. He still didn't want anybody to see, despite his previous thinking about how everything was going to change.

"What 'bout Woodbury?" Daryl muttered, watching Murphy and how he got rid of Connor's bloody clothes. He immediately and shyly looked away the moment the younger MacManus got rid of his friend's shirt, but a moment later he just had to look right back, because he had caught a glimpse of Connor's bare torso, a sight that shocked him and made him look back anyway. He really was in a bad shape. Covered in cuts and bruises, bruises that looked even more dangerous than what he had seen yesterday, simply because they'd had an entire night to really form. Connor now almost looked like him when he'd been beat up by his father back then, in an environment just like this, and it made Daryl incredibly angry.

"Con said's all gone and fucked. I don't know. Didn't go back ta check it out…ye know if tha place got anything we could use ta sterilize his cuts? He looks real fuckin bad, man" Murphy said as he delicately felt Connor's wrists, the cuts and burns from the rope he'd been tied with, only to place his tattooed right hand on Connor's cheek again so he could move his head to the side and check the cut there.

Daryl clenched his fists and just stood by Murphy's side, helplessly but also angrily watching the scenario. The whole sight of it made his blood boil. The memories made his blood boil, how this psycho bitch had cut his friend with the knife and….

He had done nothing to prevent this.  
He had done nothing to help his friend.

Connor was in such a terrible shape and he had left him back there, left him there to die while he'd just been busy trying to run away.

"Ye got anything ta fuckin sterilize the cuts?!" Murphy shouted and turned his head to give Daryl an impatient, angry glare.  
Daryl wouldn't yell back or leash out no matter how angry he looked, he just nodded a little and bowed his head, obviously ashamed to look at Connor.

"Hmhm" he just muttered and then turned around to leave the hut, to head for the shed right next to it where he knew the previous owner had secretly produced his own moonshine. He could still hear Murphy talk to Connor inside, how he told him how sorry he was for everything he had done and said for the past couple of weeks and how everything was going to get better between them as long as he fucking recovered from this mess and how he should stop being such a fuckin pussy, a constant mixture of angry mocking words, and a sudden declaration of brotherly love.

Daryl punched the wooden wall of the shed hard and didn't even wince or flinch when he felt the wood splinters break his skin. For a moment he actually just stood there and stared at the crate that was filled with moonshine, and although he wasn't even inside the hut anymore, the images of bloody Connor wouldn't leave his mind.

He felt so fucking guilty.  
So angry with himself.

He had spent an entire night moping like some fucking emo. Giving up, doing absolutely nothing but staring gloomily at something random. He'd even spent the entire morning getting wasted, like he'd been celebrating this shit. Even now he still was slightly drunk. He'd done all that shit, while Connor had been walking around out there, like that, half-dead already. He had failed his best friend. Daryl really wanted to kick that crate. Destroy all the hard alcohol, stuff he'd consumed earlier to kill the grief that had been absolutely unnecessary. In the end he did nothing though, because he knew that they needed that stuff right now, anyway.

* * *

Connor did awake to the sting of hard alcohol against his neck and wrists while Murphy tried to clean his wounds with water and moonshine, a mixture that stung like a swarm of bees was attacking him. Daryl, who had been watching the scenario with his arms folded, leaned against the wall, visibly shifted and widened his eyes a little, even reaching out as he tried to come closer and help, but in the end he did nothing though, because he felt like he didn't deserve to be that hero.

The Irishman winced and started coughing as he immediately tried to move away from the rag Daryl had given Murphy to clean him up. Connor croaked once and squeezed his eyes shut with a reproachful "Fuck off" obviously not liking the procedure, or maybe he even thought he was still in captivity. But none of that was happening of course, he was with his friend and brother, who smirked a little and continued to try and clean him up.

"Don' be such a fockin baby" Murphy said with that happy smirk and resumed his work, while Connor kept trying to move away from the touch.

"Pussy's more like it" Daryl said quietly although he didn't really mean it. Murphy turned his head a little to give Daryl an angry reproachful look that meant exactly what the hunter interpreted.

_You don't get to call him that. You almost got him killed._

Daryl's face fell a little since he was thinking the same thing, but it got forgotten the moment Connor suddenly opened his eyes a little and looked right at Daryl at the mention of those words, until he actually gave him a crooked but affectionate smirk. "Fuck you" he said with that smirk and Daryl just looked at him, arms still folded, the look on his face still giving it away that he felt incredibly guilty and upset. It looked like Connor was trying to cheer him up despite the state he was in, but then he started coughing again, sounding almost like a barking dog because it was so deep and throaty. Even now he was still coughing up some droplets of blood, making it obvious that not just the bruises and cuts were the worst, but also his still present flu infection. Daryl's face fell a little, as the alarming reminder struck a cord.

They had never managed to bring Connor the medicine. Because right then all the attacks had started.

"Drink this" Murphy instructed and handed Connor a bottle, which made the older MacManus mutter and then look at it.

"Te fuck is tha" he muttered and Murphy tried to press the bottle to his mouth to help him drink, but Connor refused it until he didn't know what was in there.

"Water ye dumbarse, now drink" Murphy ordered once more but Connor shook his head and turned away.

"Gimme te hard shit" he croaked and Murphy snorted, just like Daryl, although he didn't want to or even feel like it.

"Are ye shitting…"

"Gimme te hard shit, Murphy MacManus, 'm fuckin dyin here" Connor interrupted and started coughing all over again, which made Murphy scowl a little as he muttered an annoyed "Be any more fuckin dramatic", then he obeyed, helping Connor to drink some of the moonshine Daryl had brought. Which just made Connor cough even more, this time not just because of the flu, but also because he had swallowed the wrong way and because it burned. But this time, it was a good kind of burn. It eventually numbed the pain a little.

"Oh fuck" Connor muttered and then let his head fall back into bed, until he automatically tried to curl himself up again while he shielded his eyes in pain. Daryl just stood and stared, feeling more and more unwanted, like he was intruding an scenario that obviously belonged to the brothers alone. He felt incredibly sorry but also jealous, wanted Murphy gone and be with Connor on his own, be the one to take care of his friend and apologize this way, make it better this way, but he was still way too disappointed and angry with himself to really pull it through.

He was exhausted.  
He felt numb.  
He was still fucking upset.

Connor kept coughing and bleeding a bit, a scenario that finally gave Daryl the right reason to leave.

He grabbed his crossbow and threw it over his shoulder, head still bowed a bit as he headed for the door.

"'m gonna go, hit the road" he said quietly, still sounding defeated an broken. "See if I can retrieve some of the stuff we brought t'Woodbury before…" he stilled for a moment and closed his eyes a little, hand rested on the door handle. Of course he was incredibly happy that Connor was alive and back. That Murphy had brought him back. That the two of them had not forgotten all about him. But at the same time, his guilt weighed him down. The knowledge, that neither Murphy nor Connor had found anyone else from their town. That the others were possibly dead. Everything that had happened yesterday had shaken him to the core, it was still there, and he just kept getting reminded of all the death and chaos every time he saw Connor's battered figure on the bed.

He didn't just need to go back to see what he could find in what was left of Woodbury. Didn't just go back to see if he could find that medicine, maybe some food and clothes for them. He also needed to go back because he owed the others, hoping that maybe it wasn't too late yet, that Connor had proven him wrong, that he just needed to have a little faith. In the end he just wanted to leave so he could get his mind back together and most of all, give the MacManus brothers some privacy they obviously wanted. So he opened the door but then Connor suddenly called out, trying to make him stop.

"Wait te fuck up yer…" another coughing fit "yer not going back there" he croaked, trying to sit up while Murphy tried to force him back into bed so he could rest. But Connor ignored him, and so did Daryl. Although the hunter would stop walking and stood in the doorway like that, with his back turned on the MacManus brothers and his head bowed he wouldn't turn around to face Connor and look him in the eye.

He still felt like he didn't deserve that. No. He owed him the other thing. He needed to go back and set this thing right because he owed Connor after his fuck up.

"I'll be back 'n couple of hours, bring back some supplies" he just said and then started walking again, leaving the bedroom so he could get to the exit door and leave the hut. Connor kept calling after him, even trying to get up as he fought Murphy's grip.

He couldn't believe this shit. How that fucker would leave him again, now that they had only just found each other. It was so typically Daryl, and yet it completely pissed him off. Of course Daryl had to drag him to safety, not say a single word or do anything with that broody fucking look on his face, until he decided to suddenly just leave.

"Tha place's fuckin overrun with walkers, asshole, are ye…" Connor coughed yet again but still tried to get up, but Murphy's grip around him was way too tight.

"Just let te fucker go, 's all he can do anyway, chicken out. Now fuckin chill and lie back down, ye retard, yer just gonna make it worse!"

"Fuck ye, 'm not letting…" Daryl heard the twins argue, and although he did feel somewhat happy that Connor was still trying to stop him and spoke up for him, he still decided not to stay.

He needed to do this.

He grabbed his crossbow and then entered their car, once again looking in the rearview mirror to check that no crazy injured Connor was trying to follow him, then he started to drive away, to gain some distance so he could put himself together before he truly faced the MacManus twins again, drove away to get Connor the stuff he truly needed, because all of Murphy's caring with water and moonshine certainly wasn't going to be enough and they all knew it.


	31. Claimed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the new kuddos and comments. You guys are super awesome. It's not often that I (or anyone else in that fandom) get so many hits and comments and kuddos on my fics on AO3. So it' super cool.
> 
> All I can say is, we're getting closer and closer to some sweet Connaryl :)

The scenario was almost freakishly the same. Just like a couple of months ago. When the prison had still been their home, when the Governor, his brother's murderer, had lived here with his people. Just like back then Daryl was crouching by the side of a car now, eyes scanning the surrounding area. It smelled like death and decay all around the town that had been their home just two days ago. He could still see the corpses down the street, lying there, soaking wet both from the rainy night, as well as from all the blood.

It was a sad sight, and even now Daryl still had to swallow hard.

Everything was so fucked.

After observing Woodbury a pretty long while with both his knife and crossbow ready, Daryl finally decided to leave his hideout to make his way into town. He really wanted to see, but at the same time, he really didn't want to see. In the end he needed to make sure. He owed every single one of them. He'd never been the praying type, had never believed in anything other than the harsh reality and survival, but even with all this he was somewhat praying right now, and maybe that was the MacManus twins' fault. He prayed not to find corpses of any of his friends. Not Rick. Not Carol. Not little asskicker or Carl and Michonne. Maybe deep deep down, he didn't even want to believe or hope anymore. His inner demons still kept telling him that they were all dead, Merle's voice that was mocking him inside his head, telling him that they'd always been a bunch of pussies anyway, and that officer friendly says hi from the other side.

Daryl gritted his teeth and clenched his fists a bit, and although he was scared and angry, he kept going.

_This is a graveyard._

That's what Lori had said a year ago, when they had come across all the abandoned cars and corpses on the highway not too far away from Hershel's farm. It was exactly like that now, only worse. Although most of the blood had been washed away yesterday night because of the rain, the entire town still looked like it had been slaughtered, with corpses from the herd of walkers, their attackers, and people of their own lying scattered all across main street.

Only a couple of walkers were staggering around town, making it rather easy for Daryl to avoid or kill them. The first thing he did, always looking around, checking for enemies, was to take a closer look at most of the dead. He recognized a few of them, saw but avoided the sad figure of beheaded Hershel, but other than that, there were no people from his group at least.

Maybe this was a good sign.  
Maybe it lifted his spirits, if just a tiny bit.

Daryl looked up and scanned the rest of the town, slowly drawing his crossbow so he could shoot another walker that was coming too close. When he approached the shot corpse to retrieve his arrow he actually had to stop and stare when he noticed the bloody baby carrier on the ground, not too far away from the building that had once been Rick and the other's home.

Little asskicker.

She had been the only baby in here.

Daryl pressed his lips together, remembering the couple of times he'd been able to hold her. He had always loved the little girl very much. He looked up once again, actually praying to god that Carol and the others had managed to take her away and that the blood was not hers, not matter how much it looked like that. Daryl even kicked the carrier to make it fall over so he did no longer have to see the blood and then almost forced himself to keep going, to no longer dwell on that. If Connor had made it out despite being on the other side of the wall then the others'd had a chance as well. He kept repeating that mantra in his head, also remembering his own talk.

_We're gonna find her and she's gonna be just fine. Am I the only one zen around here? Good lord._

All his previous moping about had nearly gotten Connor killed because he'd been too busy being all emo instead of going back here to look for him. No. He wasn't going to repeat that shit now. He was going to stay strong and believe in his group's strength until he found definite proof that they were dead. They had survived equally fucked up shit before. And maybe the MacManus brothers with their saint and belief crap actually did them some good.  
Maybe they had god on their side. No matter how little the hunter believed in it.

He headed right for the building they had used to keep the infected in, knowing that this had been the place where they had dragged their supplies from Fort Valley, the medicine Connor needed more than anything right now. There wasn't much left inside pretty much any of the buildings they had used to store their supplies. Their weaponry had been pretty much empty even before the shootout, simply because they had used most of their guns and ammo while they had tried to fight the herd. What little they had left had been taken by the enemy pretty soon after the shootout had subsided and everyone had left, Daryl was sure of it.

The hunter still searched their storages, hoping to find whatever he could to make his and his friends' life as comfortable as it could get out there, now that they no longer had walls or a large number of people protecting them. And maybe he also stayed here way longer than necessary or safe because he a ) wanted to make sure none of their people were dead and left here and b) because he still wasn't quite ready yet to face Connor and Murphy again. Not only because he felt guilty, but also because he felt pretty embarrassed by now. He was sure that Murphy had told Connor everything by now because that's how they ticked, and he was more than sure that Connor was going to give him shit for the way he had treated Murphy, and the fact that he had done absolutely nothing, quite the opposite with his drinking and moping about.

He wondered how he was supposed to explain this or even justify it. The truth was that he didn't want to do any of that. Didn't want to tell Connor, didn't want him to know, didn't want to discuss any of it. In fact, he didn't even want to talk about the shootout or any of what had happened here in Woodbury either. He just wanted to do what he'd always done after something bad had happened, be it before the apocalypse or after it.

Pretend nothing had happened. Keep on living.  
Keep on surviving.

He was busy searching the building he had used to live in when his day took a down turn.  
The first thing he heard was the sound of a car engine.  
A moment later there was the banging of car doors.

Then there was the rattling of guns, people who were obviously shooting the bunch of walkers higher up the street, the ones Daryl hadn't bothered killing because they had been too far away to notice him. But whoever had come here, they had taken care of them now. Daryl widened his eyes and nearly dropped his bags with the medicine and supplies, when he turned his head abruptly to try and have a look outside the windows. He couldn't see anything.

He could only hear them.

"Well look at that, we hit the checkpot, fellas" said a male figure outside, obviously being closer to the building Daryl was in than the hunter liked.

"Shhhhhit" Daryl whispered and quickly grabbed his bag, only to quietly jog towards the door that led back to the stairway and ultimately, back outside.

"Holy shit, got some nice guns here, who'd just leave that shit behind?"

"Dead folks do."

"I'm claiming the rifle."

"Claimed."

"Claimin' this one."

"Eh Joe, you think we can stay here for the night?"

The talking wouldn't stop outside. Daryl made out a group of at least five people, a group who obviously had nothing to do with any of the things that had happened here yesterday. They seemed to be strangers, intrigued by the sheer size of Woodbury, all the things that had been left behind after the shootout. And it was exactly the fact that they were strangers which made Daryl go right back into panic mode.

He didn't trust strangers.  
Didn't trust anyone after what had happened yesterday.

He tried his hardest to get down the stairs in time without making them creak, but barely managed to get close to the exit door when it suddenly opened. For a moment the hunter actually stilled in horror with his eyes wide open as he saw the door swing open, already fearing that this was the part where they spotted him. He also immediately lifted his crossbow to point it at whoever entered the building, but was actually surprised to see that the man had his back turned on him and came to a halt even before he entered the building.

"Yo guys, I'm gonna check out the building, see if I can find a nice place to crash."

"You can't just go lie on your fat ass and…"

"Well guess I can cos I'm _claimin_ this whole thing right here" the man with the bandana said and pointed at the building, obviously getting into an argument with another man who was on his way to get closer. Daryl immediately used the opportunity, surprised and thankful for the fact that these men had not yet noticed him because of their sudden fighting over whatever the hell their whole claiming business meant. He was left no other choice but to head for the door to his right, the one single apartment downstairs that had once belonged to one of the former Woodbury residents named Jimmy.

Daryl managed to enter the room and then quickly tried to shut the door as quietly as possible, bare seconds away from turning the key around to lock the door when he suddenly and already heard the creaking of the floorboards on the other side, letting him know that this was the man entering the building and actually getting close to the first apartment he saw, which happened to be the one the hunter found himself in.

Daryl knew that if he turned the key around now the guy would hear it on the other side and probably sound the alarm. The hunter turned his head in panic, searching the room for another exit but not finding one, like a trapped animal, until he was left no other choice but to dive down and hide under the bed, a movement he was more than used to because of his past as an abused child. This had been one of the many things he had tried to do to hide from his father, only that back then, it had been absolutely useless because the old man had known where to look.

Daryl actually prayed to god that the other stranger bastard wasn't as smart now and started looking as well, but he grabbed his knife just in case, knowing that he possibly couldn't shoot his crossbow from down there when he was lying on top of it. The hunter then saw that he had lost the bag with the medicine and supplies right in front of the bed and wanted to reach for it to pull it under it as well, but right then the door suddenly opened, revealing a dirty pair of boots.

Daryl wanted to curse but forced himself to shut up and stop breathing as the man started walking around the room for a while. No matter how hard he tried, it felt like his heart was beating loud and fast enough to be heard anyway. Daryl waited and cursed himself for having gone back here alone, that he had ever even considered continuing the journey on his own. Without the group, or like now, without Connor and Murphy.

It were situations like that which showed him how much he needed back up, how he couldn't possibly survive any of this on his own.

Right then he remembered again and opened his eyes only to lock them on the bag, the one that was still lying on the ground not too far away from him, right in front of the bed.

Connor.

Connor needed the medicine. The medicine that was in the bag. Daryl then noticed that he was also facing the back of the feet that belonged to the stranger and saw the opportunity to grab it, but right then the man chose to turn around. Daryl held his breath once again and flinched hard as he immediately withdrew his arm and pulled it back under the bed, already fearing that this was the part where the guy had managed to see him and was going to shoot him right here, under the bed.

But nothing happened.

All the man did was kneel down a bit, right in front of Daryl's bag and then he opened it, until he suddenly chuckled.

"Fuck yeah. Claimed!" he shouted and then turned around to make sure he had been heard, and this was when another man decided to enter the room as well. Just like before Daryl really wanted to curse because it just kept getting worse, but there was literally nothing he could do but stay under the bed, hold his breath and wait for it play out. He tried to press his head to the ground so he could see more, but all he managed to see was two dirty pairs of shoes and even dirtier jeans. Whoever was there, they certainly didn't look or smell nice. Daryl didn't even need to see their faces to get that they were shady as hell.

"Claimed what?" the other new man asked aggressively, the same man who had tried to pick up a fight with the other only moments ago.

" _This_ bag _right here_ " snarled the other man, grabbing the bag which made Daryl clench his fist as both strangers got closer and closer to each other.

"Yeah, well 'm claiming the bed then, chucklefuck."

"Bullshit, y'all heard me put my claim on this whole building."

"Damn right I heard yah claim this _building_. Didn't hear you put your claim on anything other than that. No beds, no pot t'piss in. All y'all did was put claim on the hut and 'm telling you, I'mma claim this bed, Tony."

"There's another whole bunch of buildings 'n beds for you motherfucker t'claim!"

"Are you disrespecting Joe's rules, you piece of shit? Claimed's claimed…"

There was a sudden pause and Daryl visibly tensed even more, although he had not even believed it to be possible. Then, from one second to the next, both men suddenly got into a harsh fight, one Daryl was left no other choice but to watch. For a moment he eventually even rooted for one of them to kill the other so he had it easier. At least until the next thing happened. Because then the man who had entered the room last suddenly managed to hit the first man Tony so hard in the face that he actually tripped over Daryl's bag and fell to the ground right in front of the bed, only a couple of inches away from the hunter's face.

Daryl immediately grabbed his knife tighter, his hands already shaking from both the tension but also fear as he watched in surprise and horror how the other man kept punching Tony and then started to strangle him, right in front of Daryl's eyes.

And then it happened.

Another punch forced the man on the ground to suddenly look in his direction, under the bed, look him right in his face. Both Daryl and the man that was being beaten widened their eyes in mutual shock at the sight of the other, but before the abused could get a word out and warn the other member of his group the later already started strangling him again, shaking the man, which made the back of his head collide with the ground multiple times.

"Har…har..harley..stop!" the man tried to force out despite the strangling, continuously looking over to Daryl who, although he was pretty terrified and feared for his life, also considered that this was a possible win situation for him, because the other man obviously wanted to either kill the man for him, or knock him out unconscious before the man got the chance to warn him about the unseen other stranger in the room.

"Har… stop!"

"You wish" said the other man and strangled even harder, unaware of Daryl under the bed, who pressed his finger to his lips to hush the strangled with a little satisfied, although scared smirk. Only seconds after this did the abused finally give in to the darkness and he stilled, leaving only his grunting attacker and hidden Daryl in the room, possibly dead, possibly unconscious, he didn't know.

Daryl kept staring at the man on the ground, a bit more terrified again because he didn't want him to wake up and see him again now, and he was also nervous about the other man. He wondered what was going to happen now and how the fuck he was going to get out of this, if the other was going to kneel down and get rid of the unconscious or dead other man, if he was going to take the bag with the meds that Connor needed, but as Daryl was still busy spinning all those thoughts and questions around in his head the other man named Harley suddenly breathed out loudly, obviously exhausted from the fight, and then lay down on the bed, whose springs connected hard with Daryl's shirt and got stuck in it during the process, until they started to rip it apart a bit.

"My bed now, jackoff" said the man and then breathed out again, sprawled out across the bed, obviously enjoying his latest claim.

Daryl stayed right underneath it, trying to concentrate on any other sounds as hard as he could, his eyes continuously fixed on the bag Harley hadn't bothered taking although he had just strangled its new 'owner'. The hunter heard the other three or however many guys were left of the new group, but they seemed to be far enough from this building by now, obviously exploring the rest of their town for things they could 'claim'. Some of them were even talking about the various pieces of clothing that the other looters had thrown out on the street, especially chuckling and joking about a bra and other women's clothing.

"Hey yo, you see that shit? Still smells damned good!"

"The hell you hollering 'bout , this shit's been lyin in the…holy shit."

The men outside suddenly started laughing.

"Maybe we really should check out all of 'em buildings, maybe some niece piece of ass got left behind or something" said one of the men, while the other only chuckled even more.

"Don't grab your pecker just yet, place's a ghost town but hey, how 'bout you grab the other hot piece of ass we found 'n front of the wall, hm?"

"She was shot t'shit 'n dead, dumbass."

"Yeah, dead hot."

"Hey man, but if we do find an alive one round here, maybe injured or whatever, 'm callin first, fellas, just so you know it."

They all started laughing again.

"You wish, jerkoff. Cos that bitch is claaaaiimed."

They all started laughing again until the other man with the deeper voice suddenly spoke up.

"Who knows who else was left behind here. Let's just be careful til we made sure all of the buildings are empty and that the whole area's secure" said the man who was obviously the leader and in control of them, and pretty soon they all fell quiet with a few displeased grumbling sounds.

A moment later Daryl also heard loud snoring sounds coming from the bed on top of him, and this time, he considered it his chance. Although his breath was labored from the fear and tension he forced himself to be as quiet as possible as he carefully snuck out from under the bed, moving almost like a snake, cautious and ready as if he were on a hunt.

He kept his eyes fixed on the unconscious man on the ground at first, until he successfully managed to sit up and turned around in one swift motion, all the while grabbing his crossbow to aim it at the man on the bed. Daryl just sat there on the ground for a moment, absolutely motionless, eyes fixed on his possible prey with brows furrowed, until he finally and carefully stood up and started walking backwards, towards the bag, towards the door, crossbow still pointed at the sleeping man on the bed. It was then when he suddenly stepped on a picture frame that lay on the ground behind him, forcing the glass to crack and ultimately, forcing the man on the bed to open his eyes and look right at him.

_Shit._

Daryl immediately grabbed his crossbow tighter and got in a proper shooting position, all the while staring at the man with a deadly glare.

"You make one peep and you're dead before yah can open your mouth, sunshine" Daryl snarled and kept his crossbow pointed at the man, who looked rather surprised at first, but then started smirking.

"You sure this is a good idea, Robin Hood? Little birdie tells me you're quite outnumbered here" Harley said but still raised his hands in the air, but he did it in a way that suggested that he was just making fun of Daryl. "Don't take too long and Joe and the gang are gonna come lookin for me, and trust me, 's gonna get reaaaal ugly for you."

"Come look for you like you looked after your lil friend here?" Daryl said and pointed at unconscious Tony on the ground, which just made Harley smirk and chuckle even more.

"He's gon be back up in no time, then he's gonna join the party. Ain't gonna wanna miss that one" he just went on and gave Daryl an even more threatening look, which just made the hunter furious. He pointed his crossbow and the arrow in it right at the man's head.

"Get off the bed, hands where I can see 'em. Kneel with your eyes facin that wall there."

"The man huffed but eventually gave in with a little headshake as he slowly and almost lazily got off the bed under Daryl's constant watch.

"Reaaaalll ugly" he repeated and then knelt in front of Daryl, hands behind his head.

The hunter just wanted to knock him out and gag him, so he could make his way out with the bag, and without any one seeing him. He was well aware of the fact that he was completely outnumbered, and it wasn't like he fancied yet another shootout and even more death. He was tired of everything, he just wanted to leave, so he eventually approached the man with his crossbow turned it around, so he could use the grip to knock the man out with a blow to the back of his head.

Harley had other plans though.

The moment he felt that Daryl was close enough he suddenly and abruptly moved his arms back down and behind himself in a ramming motion and managed to bury one elbow in Daryl's chest area, while he landed the other elbow right on Daryl's nose. The hunter grunted in pain and stumbled back, surprised by the sudden attack and then fell over the other unconscious figure on the ground, once again fearing the worst.

But it didn't look like Harley was about to call his buddies or use his gun that was lying on the ground next to the bed, because then he suddenly launched himself at Daryl and landed on top of him just like he had done it with Tony before, beating a couple of times until he wrapped his hands around his throat as well and squeezed tight. Daryl forced out a terrified and scared grunt with wide eyes and immediately tried to fight the strangling choking on the blood of his bleeding nose, but the man just kept going.

"You really think you can just sneak up on me 'n kill me in my own godamned house with the others right outside those doors? Didn'tcha hear that we claimed this place? Huh? Y'know what happens t'sneaky sons of bitches like you? We teach 'em a lesson they ain't ever gonna forget" the man said then grinned for a bit, only to give in to the more concentrated and angry grunts that just forced themselves out due to his constant beating and strangling.

Daryl took the blows and , although they hurt, he was still used to it, and although he was also terrified he was getting more and more angry. He could almost feel the fury fill his veins because he knew this, had experienced the exact same shit so many more times than he could possibly count. The pain. The beatings, the subduing and the near death experiences. He had always made it through his father's abuse, had always survived only god knew how many beatings and near death experiences, so he sure as hell wasn't going to give in now.

He saw the bag on the ground, saw the medicine inside, and knew what he needed to do.

From one second to the next and without a warning, he suddenly lunged out and punched the man hard in the side of his face and particularly his ear, knowing that it hurt more than anything, made him hear a whole lot less and most of all, lose a good bit of his orientation.

Harley was nowhere prepared for such a blow and was almost thrown off Daryl. He immediately released his grip because he just had to press a hand to his ringing ear in pain, and the hunter used this moment of inattention to turn tables and be on top instead. He punched his attacker hard once more, right on his throat, to make it impossible for him to scream for help, then there was a second blow, right to the face, namely the nose and mouth to make it even harder. He did feel pretty much about the same pain in his fist because the bones and teeth were hard against his own bones and flesh, but he did not care, this was about life and death and most of all, it wasn't like he had any control over his body right now anyway.

Because then suddenly, and once again, all the memories of yesterday came rushing back, he remembered their helplessness right here, in this town, when they had been overrun and slaughtered, he remembered murdered Hershel and beat up Connor, he remembered the bloody baby carrier outside, all the corpses, the fact that this was now a ghost town, because of some other assholes just like the ones that had come here right after the shootout, only one day after, like some vultures.

He let go of all that anger and sheer hatred and beat the man some more, which made his victim fight and scratch him in terror, until he ripped parts of his shirt in a desperate attempt to stop this. But Daryl did not give in a did the other thing instead, did the same to him he'd seen the man do to the other. He wrapped his bloody hands around the coughing and gagging man's throat and started squeezing as hard as he could, harder and harder, until he let out an angry and terrified but surprised grunt simply because this was so exhausting, so shocking, so hard, and yet…so right.

The man finally stopped scratching his muscular arms and ripping his shirt and grabbed his wrists instead, already weak but still trying to move the strangling hands away. However, Daryl was unforgiving. It only took him about one or two minutes of harsh squeezing until the man finally died under his hands, and when it was finally done Daryl couldn't help but fall back in horror, until he just sat there on the ground with bloody hands and stared at the man he had just murdered.

His heart was pounding, his chest was heaving and his bloody hands were shaking, not just from the shock, but also because his bloody knuckles hurt from his beatings.

He couldn't believe that he had really pulled it through.

He had never considered himself a killer, had always kind of judged Connor for his mindless killing.

He could've just knocked the guy unconcious and left, but he had actually _killed_ him.

Of course he knew that it had been in self defense. It had been either him or the other guy after all, but it was still quiet shocked by it. This was the third time already. The third time he had murdered someone rather brutally, and pretty much the fourth time he had completely lost it due to that almost insane rage and hatred inside of him. It was only getting worse. The more time he spent with his murderous best friend, the more he fell in love with him and fell protective of him, the more people he lost and felt alone because of that.

After just a short moment of gathering himself he finally and quickly got up again and grabbed the bag, because he needed to get the hell out of here. He avoided looking at the bloody mess he had left behind and just took his belongings, still rather shaken by his own deed.

He had done it once again. Murdered a man in cold blood.

* * *

"'m gonna go look fer 'im" Connor grunted, still trying to get out of bed while Murphy kept pushing him back. Way too much time had passed since Daryl had abruptly left their new hideout, and Connor was more than worried about his friend. Because the hunter wasn't like them, because walkers would attack him and tear him to shreds if only they got the chance, unlike whatever happened whenever the MacManus twins came across the undead.

The older Macmanus brother had fallen asleep for just a couple of hours, but now that he was awake, and most importantly, now that Daryl still wasn't back yet, he figured that he just needed to _do_ something. It was night out by now, which just made him even more worried. Countless things replayed themselves in his head as Connor couldn't help but think about what had happened last time Daryl had been so reckless after seeing people kill someone loved – last time he had gone out there to kill the Governor and take revenge for Merle's death he had almost died. And he'd only survived this because he had been there to carry him all the way back to the prison.

Connor knew what strangely quiet and obviously upset Daryl meant.  
He hadn't just gone out there to get supplies and medicine.

After his short nap he actually felt a bit better again, good enough to feel able to go out there and find his friend. But Murphy wasn't having any of that.

"Oh jesus fuckin Christ, just let te fucker go, he didn't exactly go back fer you either when you were back in Woodbury, all he did was fuckin mope about and get drunk all the while telling me that yer fucking dead anyway."

"That's cos I played fuckin dead and he probably saw me like that, all right?" Connor spat and Murphy fell quiet for a moment. Connor managed to somewhat sit up but everything immediately started spinning because of his fever and concussion. The blonde Irishman pressed a hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to adjust to the new position.

"Ye don' know him. 's exactly how he fuckin ticks. He thinks people are dead he fuckin stops talkin and doin shit. Those people back there were pretty much his fuckin family, and he lost his real family just about two months ago, now give 'im a fuckin break and help me get up. We gotta go look fer him. He needs us now."

Murphy stayed quiet and looked at Connor a little while longer, as he contemplated this.

He had been really angry with Daryl up until now. Simply because of the lie, because of the fact that if he had listened to the hunter and kept going with him, Connor's resulted death would've been Daryl's fault. He knew that he had the right to bear a grudge against the hunter but on the other hand….if Connor and Daryl both said the truth and the hunter had really seen him play dead, then what was the point of blaming him for it?

He had seen that bastard cry because of Connor's 'death'. And he could see and hear now how much his brother seemed to care about that redneck bastard as well. No matter how little he thought of their 'thing' because it was wrong and went against their beliefs, he couldn't deny that it was still there. He let out a deep, angry and yet compliant sigh and then got up, using the motion to shove Connor back into bed once more.

"All right, I'll get yer stupid girlfriend" he gave in and then grabbed his knife, looking at his gun for a moment only to leave it with Connor. His sibling coughed a couple of times because of the shove and then looked at him in surprise, not just because it was unusual for Murphy to give in and do something that involved Daryl, but also because he didn't like the idea of Murphy leaving him as well either. "Just stay right here, ye gotta rest" Murphy instructed and even gave Connor the pointer finger this time, until he suddenly couldn't help but smirk because of their sudden role reversal.

He then headed for the door and smirked even more, because damn right this was a nice role reversal. He looked at the door where he saw the rusty old key, remembering all the times back in Woodbury when he had been the one to get left behind and fucking locked in some room to keep him from running off.

"No. I'm gonna come with ye. I know me way around here better then ye and most of all, I know 'im more than you do" Connor said, just like Murphy had suspected him to say. When the younger MacManus twin turned around he could already see his brother trying to get up again. But Murphy was faster. He gave Connor a little smirk which made his sibling widen his eyes, the both of them thinking the same thing at the same time.

"Murph, don't you…."

"Be back before ye know it. Don' do anything stupid" Murphy said with a grin and then almost jogged through the door, only to slam it shut and then turn the key around to lock it tight.

"Ye fuckin little shit!" Connor immediately roared from the other side of the door, but then he started coughing his lungs out again. "Murph!" he still kept protesting and even seemed to try to throw something at the door, and maybe Murphy stayed just a little while longer to tease his brother. Despite all the fucked up things that had happened to them during the past couple of days he suddenly couldn't help but laugh and smile, not just because he was so incredibly happy that his brother was alive and still with him, but also because this time, he got to lock _him_ up exactly like Connor had done it to him just a couple of days ago.

"Relax, brother dear. 's just fer the best. I just don't want anything or anyone ta hurt ye while I'm gone" he said with that dickish grin, even stroking the door affectionately as if to tease Connor even more.

"I'm gonna fuckin kill ye if ye….if ye don't open the door right fuckin now!" Connor shouted in between coughs but still in that bossy tone of his, which just made Murphy chuckle even more, although he was still worried about the coughing in general. And this was exactly another reason why he figured he should go look for Daryl. Not just to shut Connor up with that stupid crush of his, but also because Daryl happened to be the one who had gone out there to get the medicine. The one who had gone out there _hours_ ago.

Murphy suddenly startled when he heard the bang of the door behind him, the one that led outside and couldn't possibly be slamming because of Connor's fit of rage. The younger MacManus startled, turned around and immediately drew his knife, to a point where he nearly threw it right at whoever or whatever had made the door slam.

Speaking of the devil.

Daryl.

He was standing there in the door, looking surprisingly different compared to when he had left a couple of hours ago. He had looked pretty wasted, tired and upset when he had left, but now he looked even worse, if that was possible. His shirt was partially torn and there were bloodstains on it. He had scratches on his arms. His hands were bloody. His nose and mouth was equally bloody and crusty from a nose bleed, with his nose looking swollen and maybe even broken.

He looked like he'd been in a terrible fight and struggle, even worse, like he'd been through hell, and when Murphy had a quick look outside, he could also see that there were bullet holes in the rear window of the car the hunter had used. Murphy scanned Daryl head to toe with wide eyes and the hunter just looked back at him for a while, until he suddenly threw a bag at the younger MacManus and looked down.

"Got the shit your bro needs. Better hand it to him right away" Daryl just muttered and avoided any further eye contact, until he suddenly went for the windows and searched the hut for anything they could use to board the place up for the night since neither of the MacManus brothers had bothered doing so while he'd been gone.

Murphy just stood there a little while longer, completely dumbfounded, bag now in one hand. For a moment he took a closer look at it, then had a peek inside it, and there they were, the bottles and little packages they had gotten for their other sick ones, added to another bunch of water bottles and cans of food.

Daryl had obviously stuck to his word and gotten Connor's medicine as well as the supplies, just like he had told them he was going to do it a couple of hours earlier. Murphy had suspected him to just leave them like he had done it before, but here he was, battered and bruised, but most of all, having brought the stuff they really needed right now.

The younger MacManus was actually impressed.  
Impressed, and also worried.

Daryl started hammering away after a short while, working on the windows, shifting furniture under heavy grunts, still ignoring Murphy just like he always did. He wouldn't talk about anything just like Connor had said, and just like yesterday night by the campfire, the hunter had just shut down. Murphy bit his lower lip nervously, suddenly feeling a ping of guilt. He fumbled about with the fabric of the bag and looked at it once more, too proud to give in at first, but then he eventually did.

_I did EVERYTHING! Everything I could, and now everyone I know is dead!  
Ye don' know him. 's exactly how he fuckin ticks. He thinks people are dead he fuckin stops talkin and doin shit. We gotta go look fer him. He needs us now._

"Hey, you uhm….you okay?" he asked clumsily, but Daryl ignored him once again, for a while, until he suddenly stilled and just stared at the board he was trying to nail to the window.

"Your bro ain't okay" he said and then finally looked at Murphy, giving him a surprising and rather unfitting angry look. "So you better hand the shit over to him cos I ain't gone out there for nothing"he tried to snarl, but still sounded way too tired and strange to actually sound dangerous.

Murphy once again felt a bit insulted by the hunter's act, but he already got it.

Daryl was like a wild animal.

As soon as was somewhat hurt and battered, either physically or emotionally, he had to try and hide it by playing extra tough. Although Murphy could easily take it as an invitation for yet another fight between the two of them, and although it would be so easy for him to lash out again, he decided not to do any of it. Because Connor was right. He didn't get Daryl, never would, and never wanted to.

In the end they both knew that their personalities did anything but fit, with them it would always be about clashes and thunder, something neither the both of them, nor Connor needed right now. And Connor was exactly the point why Murphy decided to let the whole thing be, because then Connor already started complaining again, on the other side of the door, in between heavy coughs, since he had obviously heard them talk.

Murphy eyed Daryl almost shyly once more, but the hunter had his back turned on him now, and it was the sight of that that forced the younger MacManus to keep quiet even more. Because then he didn't just see the tattoo of the wings on his back under the partially torn shirt, he also saw Daryl's large and dark scars. Murphy had his eyes glued on them for quite a while and Daryl seemed to notice that, because he suddenly and visibly tensed and turned around to shoot the younger MacManus another angry glare that told him everything.

_Get in there or I'm gonna make you._

Connor's brother immediately and quietly looked down and turned around to exit the room so he could leave Daryl alone.

* * *

He should've figured that he wasn't going to be on his own out here forever. Daryl had been sitting on the porch in front of the hut for a while, on the floor, with his back leaned against the side of the banister, staring numbly at the surrounding woods, with a glass of moonshine rested on his lap. When he heard the creaking of the door he was already prepared to see the annoying little shit called Murphy again, who, for some reason, wouldn't leave him alone anymore. He already prepared himself to shoot his lookalike yet another really angry warning glare, but when he did turn his head he was actually really surprised to see Connor there.

For a moment Daryl couldn't hide his happiness over the fact that his friend was still alive, but then he immediately looked down at the glass of moonshine again when he remembered his guilt over the fact that his friend looked so terrible because of him now.

Connor wouldn't say a word just yet and walked over to the other end of the side of the porch and then clumsily tried to sit down by Daryl's side. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut in pain, grunted like an old man and coughed again until he finally managed to sit down, although he needed a moment to adjust both to the new position and also the pain.

For a pretty long while it was actually quiet between them as Connor kept Daryl company and the both just sat there, but in the end, the hunter looked at his friend more and more. Both happily, but also worried and upset over the fact that Connor still looked so terribly beat up and sick. Connor obviously hadn't said anything for such a long time because he had needed it to adjust to the utter pain in his body, but when he did talk, it was his usual thing.

"Ye look like shit" Connor eventually said, having noticed Daryl's constant looking at him.  
The hunter didn't want to but still had to snort, which hurt his abused nose and made him wince a little bit.

"Yeah, you, too."

They both smiled for a little while, then Daryl immediately started brooding again and kept looking down. Connor noticed the glass of moonshine in his friend's lap and smirked, already missing the taste of it and really wanting to drink it, but he knew he couldn't do that now, not when Murphy had practically stuffed him with all sorts of antibiotics and medicine.

"Murph told me about yer sudden appetite fer single man parties 'n booze."

Daryl snorted once again and looked away, fiddling about with the glass for a while.

"Yeah, asshole sure as hell told yah lotsa shit 'bout me 'n what I did after…" the hunter suddenly fell quiet again and pressed his lips together. They both wouldn't say anything after that for a while, remembering everything that had happened, feeling incredibly guilty for different reasons. Daryl still felt guilty because he had left Connor behind, Connor still felt guilty because he had done nothing to prevent Hershel's death. He started coughing again and it took him a while to calm down, and it was that plus the other sad topic which automatically made him try to lift their spirits a bit, and just like the many moments before, he was actually terribly bad and insensitive with his sense of humor.

"Well, he told me that ye cried" Connor said and chuckled, then he even nudged Daryl to try and get him to laugh about it and take it easy as well. But the hunter suddenly just looked at him and wouldn't chuckle or laugh or smile about it at all, he didn't even seem to feel embarrassed about it or get all angry about it and deny it like he usually did, he just looked at Connor for a while, and then stared down again, not saying a single word.

The Irishman finally realized his mistake and immediately wanted to punch himself for his stupidity, once again remembering how terribly bad he really was at comforting people and really getting them and their feelings. Old Murphy had been better at this, whether it had been a drunk and foolish Rocco regretting something, or their drunk and nostalgic mother back in Ireland, whenever she had remembered their father after a her third bottle. Murphy had been there, to comfort them, to say and do the right things, because he had always been the more compassionate of the two of them.

And of course it had been Murphy who had told him everything about Daryl, what he had done while he'd been lying around somewhere around Woodbury, when it had just been the two of them, his brother and his best friend. Murphy didn't even really have to tell him that he should go talk to him and handle it, he could see it even without the suggestion, see that Daryl was not alright at all.

"Listen" Connor eventually said and kept looking at his friend to make him understand that he was no longer joking and certainly had no intention to be that dick all the time. "Ye did more fer my brother and me than anyone else ever did. Not even our own Da did as much as ye did fer me, or fer Murph ever since we found 'im again, okay."

Daryl once again just gave him a dismissive snort, obviously not believing it. Then he eventually did look Connor in the eye, making it obvious that he was just as honest about it. "Y'know what I did?" he said and Connor just looked at him with a little frown, honestly waiting for the answer. "Nothin. I turned my back on my friends 'n my family the moment shit hit the fan. I kept runnin and runnin. Cos that's all I do."

Connor snorted angrily but another coughing fit prevented him from giving Daryl a proper answer, and his friend used this opportunity to keep talking.

"Cos that's all _redneck assholes_ like me do all time. Nothing" he muttered and stared at the alcohol in his arms , the alcohol that made him talk again. "Did nothing t'save Sophia, did nothing t'keep Merle from dyin, and sure as hell did nothing 'bout you n Woodbury. People died cos I did nothin 'bout anything."

"I'm still fuckin here, ain't I? _That's_ on you" Connor said angrily, more than annoyed by Daryl's never ending talking himself down.

Daryl, once again, just snorted and looked away, until he lazily grabbed his knife and started stabbing the floorboards gently.

"No. Cos your bro went back for you. I didn't."

"And why te fuck's that, huh?" Connor said, once again actually really angered by his friend's talk. Daryl looked at him, already suspecting that this was the part where Connor was going to accuse him of leaving him behind, but much to his surprise his friend wouldn't do that at all.

"When ye fired that first shot at that bitch who wanted ta gut me, she dropped te fuckin knife" Connor said instead, and Daryl kept looking and listening. "That was the knife I used ta cut the rope they'd tied my arms with. And that's te knife I used ta gut the motherfucker that killed Hershel. If _you_ hadn't shot at them, I wouldn' have made it outta there, alright. I cut this son of a bitch open like a pig waiting ta be eaten, and then I used his blood 'n body ta cover myself, and pretend that 'm dead" he explained and even showed the bandages around his wrists to remind his friend of the restraints and the cuts from the knife there.

"I know that ye saw me like that cos otherwise ye wouldn' have left. I fuckin know ye, and I fuckin know that me playin dead is convincing as fuck cos I saw Jude Law do that shit in ' _Enemy at the Gates_ ', alright."

Daryl kept looking at Connor and tried to stay serious, but then he suddenly couldn't help but laugh in surprise. He chuckled some and then had to wipe his nose because it started bleeding from the sudden snort again. Connor looked at him in surprise, confused about the fact that Daryl suddenly started laughing when he had been all miserable only a moment before.

"What?" he asked in confusion and Daryl just looked at him, until he stabbed the ground once more, looked down and smirked, until he just had to look at his friend again with a gentle chuckle.

" _You_ watched a movie with _Jude Law_ in it?" he asked in disbelief, and before Connor could say anything to defend himself, he just kept going. "And yah call your 'actin' convincing cos you saw some British tea snuffer do it in ' _Enemy_ at the _Gates_ '?"

"Fuck you, 't worked like a charm fer him! And I watched it cos I read te book. Doesn't matter that te film was shitty as fuck, it did te trick just fine, didnt it?"

Daryl still kept chuckling at the absurdity of it all, but then again, he just had to remember that this was his best friend in a nutshell. Movie plans and rope. Connor was obviously pissed at him because he had insulted his taste in movies, but just like before the Irishman didn't quite get the chance to complain, because yet another heavy coughing fit had been triggered by his little stubborn fit of rage over some stupid movie.

And maybe it did make Daryl feel a bit better about it. Connor really didn't seem to bear a grudge against him in the real world at least. He seemed to get it. It was true, he had really seen his friend like that with his stupid Enemy at the Gates shit, a fact that made Daryl smirk all over again, although the guilt wasn't quite gone yet.

They both were still terribly bad at talking about important moments and emotions, and they both knew that they could never properly talk about what had happened yesterday anyway. But at least they had somewhat tried, no matter how stupid it was. And although Daryl still felt pretty upset and confused, Connor's sheer presence and most of all stupid stories about movies immediately made him feel better.

His friend sure as hell looked like shit. People had obviously beat him up fairly well, and that killer cold was still making it rather hard for his friend which was obvious in his heavy, throaty coughing, but even with all that stuff, none of it had managed to break Connor's spirit, a spirit that continuously kept him on the bright side as well.

Daryl finally kept smiling, if just a tiny bit, and stared at the forest that unfolded in front of their little hut while he waited for Connor to calm down from his coughing fit, then it was quiet again, if just for a while because of course, the older MacManus could never keep his mouth shut for too long.

"Ye ever gonna tell me what happened ta yer face?" Connor asked after a while, quieter, worry showing in his voice once again. Daryl stopped smiling and looked down. It took him a very long while to consider whether he should talk about it or not, but after a while of thinking about it, he had to realize that he was actually willing to do that.

Everything that happened to him, both today and yesterday, had taught him that he really didn't want to be alone, that he didn't want to keep pushing everyone away because they all could just disappear or day way too soon, He wanted to be with Connor and that stupid brother of his. So he eventually did give in and talked, but he wouldn't look at his friend. He scratched his arm and let out a little sigh, once again noticing the scratch marks on his arms which immediately made him shiver with unease.

"When I went back int'town…this group of guys showed up" he muttered, still avoiding eye contact.

"They part of those motherfuckers who…"

"No" Daryl immediately interrupted his friend and shook his head. "M said yah saw the place, too. 't was all dead, ghost town with corpses and all. Whoever was left after the shootout…left town like us" Daryl said and finally looked at Connor again. "Rick…" he said and paused, until he took a deep breath and stared at the woods again. "Carol, Beth, Maggie, Glenn, Michonne, Andrea… couldn't find any of them. Nowhere. So I checked a couple of buildings t'see what was left. Armory and supply stock was pretty much wiped. I found a couple of supplies in the buildings though. That's when that new group showed up."

"Fuck" Connor muttered, and immediately looked worried again. Daryl nodded.

"Yeah. I hid in a room when two of 'em showed up. One guy chokes other guy, 'claims' the bed or whatever the fuck they called it. I stayed hidden for a while, got to check them out by the way they talked. 't was just another bunch of trash folk. Stealin…maybe even rapin, shit like that" the hunter muttered and looked down again, feeling more and more uneasy about what he was about to tell his friend next.

"So this one guy lies down on the bed 'n tries to get some sleep, and when I try to leave, he wakes up and…." He took a deep breath and then ended the sentence. "We got in a fight when I tried t'knock him out. Guy nearly killed me but I managed to punch his guts…'n then I killed him" Daryl admitted, once again slightly scared of his own fits of rage and what kind of animal they could manage to turn him into sometimes. Even now he could still feel the dying pulse against his slightly shaky hands, because no matter how often he did it, killing someone living never exactly got any easier for him.

He could kill hundreds and hundreds of undead, but with the living it was strangely different. He remembered what old sane Shane had kept telling the kids over and over again, back in the early days of their camp.

_You always think fast, but you think. Know the consequences. You never fire a weapon unless you have a very good reason.  
And that's gotta be a reason that you can live with. _ _Cos a death – that stays with you. That's forever._

"I was on my way out when they kinda spotted me. Barely managed to get outta there, cos they started shootin and all. They didn't have any cars or nothin', but we should probably get as far away from Woodbury as possible. As soon as yah feelin good enough t'move."

Connor snorted.

"'m always fuckin good" he protested, although he didn't exactly look or sound like it with his croaky voice and all his coughing. Daryl snorted as well.

"Yeah sure" he said tiredly and quietly and resumed his lazy stabbing the floor boards for a while.

"Well, looks like yer parta te team now" Connor said after a while and suddenly shifted, which made Daryl look at him with a stubborn look on his face. He noticed that Connor had brought his red rag back, the one he had given Murphy so he could clean Connor up. The Irishman even went so far and suddenly grabbed the glass of moonshine from Daryl's grip, and although that confused the hunter rather much he still kept talking about the other thing.

"What team?" he asked stubbornly and Connor smirked a little as he used the moonshine not to drink it, but to drench the rag with it.

"Vigilante murder club" Connor said with a shrug, like it was the most natural thing in the world to kill every living human being who did a remotely bad thing. Daryl huffed.

"Ain't gonna join no biblebanging psycho club" he growled and stabbed the floor boards a bit more aggressively. "I just did what I had to do t'keep my ass alive."

"That's how me 'n Murph started out" Connor muttered, coughed a couple of times and then suddenly tried to approach Daryl's face with the drenched rag, which made the hunter flinch and turn away a bit. "Hey, the hell you doin" he said angrily and Connor gave him a little annoyed eyeroll.

"Cleanin that crap off yer face cos ye look like shit."

"Fuck off" Daryl growled and quickly grabbed the rag so he could clean his face on his own and that as quickly as possible. He was rather embarrassed by the whole scenario because no one had ever cared about how he had looked after some of his fights or the beatings from his father, and no matter how close he and Connor had gotten over the past couple of weeks, even now he still wasn't used to affectionate gestures towards him.

Connor just watched him clean his face for a moment but then suddenly and almost forcefully came closer, which only got interrupted by a short grunt and wince because it made his entire beat up body burn with pain once more. Daryl immediately stilled for a moment and watched Connor with a worried look on his face, saw the pain and all the bruises again, and the Irishman, sneaky bastard that he was, immediately used this opportunity and sign of unawareness to grab the rag right back. He then moved closer to Daryl, until he clumsily and also a bit too forcefully started to clean the blood off his face. He even accidentally touched Daryl's battered nose which made the hunter flinch, wince and the curse angrily.

"Ow, yah fuckin asshole. Yah such a fuckin dumbass Irish troll with the precision of a fuckin bull in a china shop!" Daryl roared because the touch had hurt. Connor couldn't help but grin and chuckle a bit, but then he kept going. Daryl flinched and tried to move away multiple times, at least until he couldn't help but watch his friend warily and also, pretty much confused.

It had been a pretty long while since Connor had last been so close to him, and he certainly felt that now. And at the same time, the sight of him with his bruises and cuts on his face, neck and pretty much everywhere, just made the hunter angry all over again. He still hated that bastard who had done this to his friend, marked him like that when this body in front of him was supposed to belong to him and his marks only.

"And yer a fucking dumbass asshole with that martyr complex of yers. Ye don't have ta get yerself beat ta shit all the time ta show that ye care 'bout someone, y'know" Connor simply answered and kept going, trying to wipe the blood off his friend as good as he could, although he was still anything but good at this. He was nowhere delicate or skilled about anything that was considered physical interaction with people other than his brother, simply because even now he was slightly reluctant to let his 'tough Irishman' exterior drop. He was pretty much like Daryl in that regard, although he _could_ be experienced in the whole tenderness part if only he wanted to.

"Yah can talk" Daryl just growled and grabbed Connor's bandaged wrist to try and stop him. Then he squeezed on purpose, not only to get his point across, but also to consciously hurt and bruise, to claim his territory right back, the slightly sick and dangerous part in him still rather present after his murder. Connor slowed down a bit and looked at his friend for a moment, obviously thinking about this comment.

"Guess we're both fuckin dumbarses then" he said quietly, after a while, until they completely stilled and fell quiet and just looked at each other. The stairing went on for a good minute. Then it was Daryl who finally broke the last barrier again and moved his head abruptly, forward, until their mouths crashed together in an angry kiss. The hunter didn't care about the fact that Connor was still infected with a flu that had killed about ten people within a day, he certainly didn't care about the fact that they were out in the open, he didn't care about anything at all because he was no longer able to keep his true feelings in.

Up until now, ever since that hug on the street, the both of them had been rather reluctant and reserved about their reunion, but now it crashed down on the both of them. Daryl was beyond relieved and at the same time almost desperate because he had his friend _back_ , because he'd thought him dead for an _entire day_ and it had been the worst feeling in the world. But now he was right here with him, and he wasn't the lonely and abandoned guy by the rail tracks anymore, because Connor was here and alive, because Murphy had come back with him, because he had neither found Rick's body, nor any of his other friends back in Woodbury. There was still a chance, still hope, still a future.

Despite the fact that their town had fallen his world obviously still wasn't fucked yet, because as long as he still had that one person right here, his best friend who was so goddamn annoying and who had simply forced himself into his life, as long as he was still there, he knew he wasn't going to die any time soon, and that life was still worth living. And he clung to Connor for all it was worth, even digging his fingers deep in his messy dirty-blonde hair until he couldn't help but pull on it almost aggressively, which only intensified the kiss, especially when Connor clung right back.

Because the Irishman was equally relieved and desperate. He couldn't believe he was still alive either, couldn't believe that he had his friend back, that he had found him and Murphy, that Daryl had returned and was still alive even after his second mad trip back to Woodbury. He quickly examined his face again to make sure that those fuckers hadn't hurt his friend too much and Daryl pretty much did the same, examining partially equal and partially worse bruises on his friend's face, until he pulled and yanked at his hair again and smashed their lips together multiple times, between angry muttered words like "You piece of shit, I thought yah were fuckin dead, man" and multiple "I fuckin hate you"s.

They did have to break the kiss more than once because they kept touching or hitting the wrong bruise which made the both of them curse at each other, but in the end they both kept going simply because they were almost needy, and getting more desperate still.

The angry aggressive kissing seemed to have gone on forever when Murphy suddenly decided to exit the hut to see where the hell his sick brother was, and it was then when he immediately groaned in disgust at the sight of them.

"Jesus fockin Christ!" he exclaimed angrily and turned around the moment he saw them. Connor and Daryl immediately broke the kiss and turned away a bit, both wiping their faces as they awkwardly cleared their throats. Connor immediately used the opportunity to cough his lungs out and that way more dramatically than he needed to do it, and Daryl immediately resumed his now almost frantic and angry stabbing of the floor boards with his knife, pretending that nothing had happened.

But Murphy had seen it anyway and immediately stormed back inside the hut with an angry "Get a fuckin room, man. Fuckin hell."

Connor eventually turned around once he had finished his coughing fit and tried to get up with a worried "Murph…" then he suddenly couldn't keep himself from smirking and then even chuckling. Daryl still stared at the porch and kept stabbing it, trying his hardest to stay serious because it was the truth and he was embarrassed as shit, but even with all that and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fight the short smirk that broke through either.

"Faggot asshole" he said and immediately tried to put the kiss in perspective, but he was still smirking until he finally managed to get that off his face, too.

"Jus fer you, honeybunch" Connor said with his own chuckle but then immediately started coughing again, because he had kept it in during the entire kiss so it didn't have to end just yet. Daryl nudged the side of his friend's thigh angrily as Connor passed him on his way back inside, half chuckling half shouting a still worried "Murph! Murph, come on, lemme explain..." after him, obviously determined to make this right somehow. Although he knew that it was wrong and went against his and his brother's beliefs.

Daryl stayed where he was, on the porch and then turned his head to stare at the dark woods.

He knew that it was wrong, too. That it went against his upbringing, that it wasn't right to do that only one day after he had seen some of his friends get murdered.  
He knew it was wrong, and yet he couldn't deny the fact that it was the only thing that made him almost _happy_ right now.


	32. Lightning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooo! I'm back. Sorry it's taken me SO long to update. But, working on a movie set is some hard shit and I did it for three weeks (it was super awesome but also super exhausting which was why I needed to go on a holiday right after that). Anyway, I'm done with that now and (hopefully) got more time again to update once a week or once every two weeks. I had a hard time getting back into the fic because of the break, read older chapters again, wrote some, deleted some progress, got started again, but then I managed. The chapter might feel a little clumsy, but I'm determined to get back into it.
> 
> So with this chapter we're also entering the last section of the story, I'm thinking that there's maybe like 5- 10 more chapters to come (I'm terribly bad at estimating though lol) and then we're done not just with this fic, but maybe with the entire series as well. I feel like I don't have too much left up my sleeve for this storyline, it depends on season 5 but I'm thinking about ending it. No matter how much it hurts. I just don't want to drag it out and make it dull and boring. Let's see. Having said that, it's def not gonna be my last Connaryl or Conphy fic! Still hardcore fandomer!
> 
> Okay enough talk, enjoy the new chap!

**A few days later….**

"Drug dealer" he heard Murphy say, which made Daryl turn his head for a moment to give the younger MacManus brother a slightly angry and confused frown.

"What?"

Murphy looked back at him for a moment and then just kept walking until he passed Daryl on their way through the surrounding woods.

"'m guessin what ye did before shit went haywire. So. Drug dealer it is."

Daryl raised an eyebrow and then turned his head a little more to look at Connor, who was somewhere behind them. The Irishman still looked rather rough because the bruises and wounds from his capture were healing rather slowly, and although he was still having trouble keeping up with them, he could walk on his own now, at least. Or more like, he insisted on it. Connor did look at Daryl after a moment as well and smirked, which the hunter returned, although it was a worried smirk. For a short moment they looked at each other as Daryl waited for his friend to catch up, then he let out a loud snort, shook his head and turned around again to start following Murphy.

"It ain't."

"All right, then. Pimp?"

"Nope."

"Bouncer fer some stripclub in hillbilly land."

Connor started laughing behind them.

"Fuck you" Daryl growled angrily.

Murphy grinned, but since he still had his back turned on Daryl the hunter couldn't really see it.

"Garbage collector."

"Screw yah."

"Cleanin lady?"

" _Screw yah_."

"Those guys who pick up te trash in parks with that sticky stabbing kinda thing fer like a dollar per hour."

"Yah can talk Mr illegal meatpackin' mick piece a' trash" Daryl snarled and suddenly stopped walking to glare at his lookalike. Murphy, who obviously enjoyed getting on Daryl's nerves again, slowed down as well and turned around to look at the hunter as well with that devilish smirk of his, the one that made him look so young and mischievous.

"Aye, bet ye'd like ta be workin on some meat, too. Don'tche, Darylena."

"Hey _you_ don't call me that!" Daryl suddenly roared, because Murphy had sounded way too much like Merle in that moment. He launched himself at the younger MacManus and tried to throw a punch, which Murphy dodged with a loud amused giggle. Connor, who couldn't help but snort at his brother's joke at first, finally approached them and tried to reach for them to shove them away from each other.

"All right, all right, children. Now fuckin relax…" he said and stepped between them, already the peacemaker again. Murphy just grinned at him and immediately obeyed anyway, stepping back a bit but still teasing Daryl with that look on his face as he rubbed his mouth to hide his smirk. Connor had grabbed Daryl's leather jacket with his other still bandaged hand and squeezed tight. He then turned his head, looked at him and let go with that equally dickish grin on his face growing wider and wider, too.

"Besides, brother dear. Who's ta say that he didn't get ta be workin on it already?" he said but started laughing halfway through his teasing joke, getting the exact reactions he had aimed for. Murphy let out a loud disgusted groan and turned around to start walking so he could get the hell away from his brother's talk. Daryl turned red, at first because he was embarrassed, but then he got even redder in the face because of his anger.

"Screw yah" he growled angrily and slapped Connor's hand away rather aggressively, until he turned away as well to grab his crossbow and pretend that he was going to start another hunt. And maybe he grabbed his weapon as some sort of protective mechanism, to look way tougher than he felt because of Connor's stupid kick below the belt.

"Fuckin micks" he complained and started walking in the other direction from Murphy and Connor, just to piss them off.

Connor's voice was strained from trying not to laugh as he looked after his brother and best friend, still standing right where he was.

"Hey, I was just tryin ta say, since ye never told us what ye did before the outbreak, ye might as well have been a meatpacker like me 'n Murph, right?" he said and kept looking at Daryl's back. The hunter just raised his arm in the air a bit and gave him the middle finger. Connor tried to look innocent and turned his head to look at his twin, presenting himself a bit as if he was innocence in persona.

"Right?"

Although Murphy was still slightly disgusted by his brother's earlier suggestion, he soon couldn't help but smirk.   
He shook his head with a snort and then started to walk back, in Connor's direction, so they could both follow brooding Daryl.

"Yer a fuckin moron."

"Ye mean fuckin hilarious."

"You wish" Murphy said and they both chuckled, obviously enjoying the fact that they were on the same wavelength again, with their joking and annoying other people like the mischievous twin brothers they had always been.

"Did he though…?" Murphy asked after a while, curious, but at the same time really not wanting to hear the truth.

"What? Work in a meat packin plant? Nah."

"No, I mean…" Murphy said and shrugged a little, as he awkwardly scratched his nose.

It took Connor a while, but when he did get what Murphy was aiming at, he started laughing again.

"D'ye really wanna know that shit?"

Murphy snorted and shook his head.

"Fuck no."

"Aye, ye better. But if ye must know, there was that one time where…" he said and wrapped an arm around his twin's shoulder to pull him closer and pat his back way harder than necessary. "Ugh, fuck ye" Murphy said with an annoyed huff and shoved Connor away to stop him from going on both with the embrace and his talk.

"Wouldcha hurry up yah morons?" Daryl suddenly shouted from somewhere in front of them, which made both twins turn their heads to look at the hunter. They were actually surprised to see how far ahead he was already, close to a spot that looked like it was either a clearing, or the edge of the forest itself.

"Jesus fuckin Christ he's annoying with that schtupid mood of his. He on the rag or something? 's there ever a time where he _doesn't_ have a stick up his redneck ass?"Murphy muttered as he and Connor made their way over to Daryl, who just kept walking and entered what most definitely looked like a clearing.

The closer the MacManus twins got to it, the more it looked like there actually _was_ a farm there.

A very familiar one.

When they finally excited the forest as well and saw the creaking windmill he was absolutely sure about it.

They had made it.

For a moment, Connor actually nearly had to stop walking because the sight of it was quite overwhelming. In the end, he kept going though and just smirked. Not just because of his siblings remark but also because of the memories that suddenly overwhelmed him, with each step that he got closer to the fences, the fields, the buildings. The truth was that he didn't even know why he was smirking about the fact that he was seeing the farm again. Yes , there were many memories connected to this place. And most of them weren't exactly pretty.

Hershel's farm looked almost exactly the same compared to last time he had seen it. Compared to last summer, to be precise. Of course there were some changes. The giant black patch of burned grass for example. Beneath a heap of burned pieces of wood and planks that had been destroyed months ago. Connor was quite relieved to see that the old and beautiful farmhouse was still standing and that the fire from a year ago had failed to reach it, that it had gone in the other direction and then died. The only remnants of that destruction were barely visible now, the burned out barn as well as Dale's old RV to the far right.

One could actually see that time had taken its toll on the remaining houses though, even from the distance. Most of the doors and windows had been ripped open or destroyed, with only tiny strips of what had once been curtains blowing in the wind. The lonely screen door with its torn webs kept banging against the front entrance in an almost steady rhythm, the wind rocking it back and forth, back and forth with each breeze.

So many memories. Good and most of all bad, and yet, he was still so very happy to see that farm again.

Connor smirked even more and limped after his brother. He even reached out for him again to touch his back, not just in response to his previous remark about Daryl but also because he suddenly felt the need to make sure that Murphy was indeed here and not just an hallucination like one of the many he'd had back here, on this farm.

"Ye get used ta his redneck schtick if ye're running around with te fella long enough."

Murphy let out a little sigh and kept looking at Daryl, who had properly raised his crossbow by now and slowly walked up the stairs to the porch of the farmhouse to check for any possible unwanted inhabitants.

"Not sure if I wanna stick around with 'im long enough" the younger MacManus mumbled and smirked a bit when Connor nudged his side with his elbow.

"C'mon" Connor just said and raised his own weapon, just like Murphy, who grabbed his knife and then entered the farmhouse behind his brother.

It certainly wasn't as nice and tidy as it had been back in the days when Hershel had still lived here with his daughters, or when the group had come here to stay with them for that matter. It didn't look as bad as it could've been either though, had proper vandalists and looters come here to just turn the place over for the fun of it. No, this farmhouse looked like it had been used for a while, after they had left it, used by some group who hadn't exactly been that tidy, but keen to keep the place safe enough so they could keep the walkers out.

There were some empty bottles and moldy cans as well as some cigarette butts, but that was pretty much it.

No corpses.  
No walkers.

The three friends soon split up so they could search the house faster, with Daryl taking the upper floor, Murphy the basement, and Connor the rest of the ground level so he didn't have to walk up too many stairs with his bruised and battered body.

It would be an understatement to say that he was a bit nostalgic. He had spent half a year here after all, on this godforsaken farm, the place where he had gotten to know everyone, Rick and his group, but most of all, Daryl. The silence made it very obvious. No one from their group had come back here. To them, the place was as abandoned and forgotten as it had been last autumn, after the fire, the herd. They had come here to maybe check if some of their people had come back here after what had happened in Woodbury, but of course not. Fleeing Woodbury had meant moving on. Leaving to go somewhere new, to find a new place to call home. It had always been that way. After Boston or Atlanta, after the farm, after the prison.

He kind of wanted to tell Daryl 'told you so'.

He'd never really believed that they were going to find Rick and the others here. He'd just felt it in his guts. But at the same time, he didn't mean to crush his friend's sudden newfound if slight optimism with his harsh words. Murphy had told him about the way Daryl had been after Woodbury. Quiet. Pessimistic. Frustrated. Violent. Angry. Just the way he had been when they had first met each other, right here. But ever since he had found him again, on that street, after Woodbury, after the kiss they had shared on the porch, Daryl had changed for the better almost immediately.

He had become the Daryl who had spent days selflessly looking for Sophia, never giving up, yelling at everyone who wanted to give up on the girl. He was just like that again, now, with the others. Content that they were going to find them one day, because Rick was a tough son of a bitch, because the others were like that, too. Daryl wanted to find the rest of their group. He wanted to go out there looking for them. For Rick, his kids, for everyone, simply because the both of them had successfully failed to find their corpses in overrun Woodbury. Because although he wouldn't speak it out, Connor knew that he had become a symbol of hope to Daryl, that if he could survive all this shit despite the fact that they had tortured and pretty much fucked him up big time, the others damn right could survive it as well.

Connor suddenly found himself inside the kitchen and stared at the open and empty refrigerator, felt his stomach clutch and twist with hunger but also with pain and an uneasy feeling.

This was the place.

_The spray of ice cold water touching broken skin, the deep and aligned red holes that formed the shape of a bite on the arm, the constant flow of thin lines of blood that mixed with the tap water and ran down the drain, painting the metal of the sink in a bright red color. He could literally feel the infection spread, crawl all the way up his arm, getting closer and closer to his heart, the one that only pumped it through his entire body, faster and faster, spreading it, dooming him._

Connor looked at that sink for a moment and grabbed his left arm, feeling the scar there, until he just snorted and shook his head.

Long fuckin story.

"You all right?"

Connor startled and turned around only to face Daryl, who was standing in the door to the kitchen and looking at him, a bit of worry showing in his eyes. Connor immediately smiled at him and nodded.

"Aye, aye. Ground level's clear. No walkers, no scumbags."

Daryl looked at his friend a moment longer and then nodded, oblivious to what this kitchen and the backyard attached to it really meant to his friend.

"Hmhm, upper floor's doin fine, too" he said after a moment and then pressed his lips together, until he quickly looked down to avoid any further eye contact.

"No Rick 'n the others either" he then muttered, admitting it and making it clear that their primary mission had obviously failed.

Connor sighed a little bit and looked to the side, outside the window, where he saw the large patches of burned grass, the ruins of the barn there.

"Aye. 's a shame. 't was real possible. Maybe they went somewhere else. Just gotta believe in it and keep looking, right."

"Right" Daryl said and looked at his friend again, now that Connor was no longer looking back at him. The hunter absorbed every inch of the Irishman, in _this_ kitchen, _this_ house, guilt, hunger, but also appreciation washing over him. He was guilty because seeing terribly beat up Connor on this property wasn't exactly new. He remembered the old days here, when they had fought so much and when he had beat the guy to a bloody pulp more than once on this farm, simply because he hadn't been able to bear all the attention he'd gotten from him.

Then there was the sudden hunger, the need to make this right, here, because so many things had changed between them, because so much was different now, because the old mistakes needed to be corrected. But most of all, there was appreciation. Relief. Because this was his friend in this house, because they were back to the place where they had formed their friendship in the first place, because this was the area where they'd first met.

Connor searched some of the kitchen drawers but found them empty of course, still looking, oblivious to the fact that he was being watched, _how_ he was being watched. Daryl eventually dropped his gaze yet again when he heard Murphy rumble up the stairs. He cleared his throat and shifted.

"'m gonna go outside. Check the stables 'n shed just t'make sure."

Connor closed a cabinet door and nodded, still scanning the kitchen for the next important thing on their list – food.

"Sure. Ye want me ta come along?" he asked and then finally looked at Daryl again, who shook his head although he wanted to nod.

"No. You should sit down and chill. Still don't look like yah doin too hot."

Connor let out a disapproving snort.

"Oh c'mon, please" he said and then started walking, bumping into Daryl on purpose on his way outside the kitchen.

"Yer not my fuckin mother."

Daryl huffed a little and tried to kick at Connor's leg in response to the harsh bump, but at soon as he was facing the Irishman's back he started smirking. Before they got to the entrance door they bumped into Murphy as well, who had left the basement and was now looking around the house like a kid on Christmas, looking at pictures, touching stuff, acknowledging the size and beauty of the farmhouse.

Connor was sure that deep deep down Murphy remembered their childhood home, somewhere in his subconscious, although not actually and actively recalling it because of his head injury. But somewhere in there, Connor could just feel it and knew that his sibling was comparing this house to their childhood home, their farm in Ireland that had been so different. Sure, their farm and house had been charming. Cozy, smelling like home, their home that they had loved so much. But still. Their home had been freakishly tiny and incredibly old and tweedy compared to this one right here. Tiny and slightly gloomy and cold but cozy and warm at the same time.

"So this used ta be Hershel's place?" Murphy asked, noticing a picture of the old man and his daughters on the floor.

Daryl and especially Connor reacted to the mention of their friend's name, pressing their lips together, swallowing hard, either looking down in silence or looking straight at Murphy, guilt showing in Connor's eyes. "Aye" the older MacManus answered and then turned his head to the side to let his gaze wander once more. "We had ta leave it when a herd of walkers came outta the woods."

Murphy raised his head a little and looked at Connor.

"When ye got bit."

Daryl almost invisibly clenched his fists a little. Connor snorted once more and kept looking away for a second longer, until he immediately put up his expert poker face again and grinned at Murphy while he nudged Daryl's side. "And here I am, all bright and shiny!" he said louder than normal, chuckling as he turned around to finally leave the house to check the rest of the property. Both Murphy and Daryl followed him outside, with the latter snorting, seeing right through the stupid act.

"Yah mean sporting _shiners_."

"And still lookin way better than the two of ye."

"Fuck ye."  
"You wish, leprechaun."

* * *

Connor was sitting on the couch in the living room that faced the front porch and fields of Hershel's property, faced the group of trees they had once used to camp under, where the sun was slowly setting against a red sky. He looked at the map on the table as he tried to think of places they could go to next, the occasional clattering of empty used bottles and cans finally making him look up, outside the door where he could see Daryl put up some sort of easy walker alarm so the scenario from a year ago couldn't repeat itself. The Irishman once again caught himself just staring at the wings on his friend's back, watching him, losing himself in yet another whirlwind of the most random thoughts and plans.

"Yer thinking too fucking loud" Murphy said after a while, from the other side of the room where he was sitting by the table and clumsily trying to clean his gun with fidgety fingers. Connor smirked at the mention of those words, because he was way too used to hearing Murphy say that. It was incredibly nice to still hear him say it, despite the memory loss, despite everything that had happened. Their weird twin connection was coming back to live more and more each day. Each added day they spent together again. They were still like two pieces of a puzzle that fit together, no matter how rough or split the edges had become over the past year, it still fit and always would.

Before all this, Murphy had complained about his thinking quite often. He was usually easy going, carefree and almost unmindful, caught in the here and now, the real world of touchable doable things, not the world of plans, possibilities, worries and ideas. It was their twin connection that forced him to live in the other world with Connor though, sharing it just like everything else they did, and that bothered him.

He could always feel it when Connor got trapped in that void and endless trains of thoughts, could feel it pull him from his sleep as well when Connor was sleepless, brooding, thinking. Always _so fucken loud_. That's what he'd kept saying back then, wrapping a pillow around his head and ears as he grumpily turned on his stomach to kill any further sound and interruption.

"Te fuck're ye doin anyway" Murphy said, curious, looking up for a moment whereas Connor wouldn't and just shrugged.

"Trying ta figure out where we should head next."

"Mmhm" Murphy muttered, a little displeased because he didn't exactly want to travel all over the place yet again, so soon, when he was hungry and tired and fed up with all the running and zigzagging trough woods and roads under the crazy hot Georgian sun for now. He kept cleaning his pistol, carefully, lovingly, sometimes missing and grabbing thin air because of his screwed coordination, but still doing it with, for him, crazy patience. Connor kept scribbling some on his map, occasionally wincing when he moved the wrong way and his abused limps and bones shrieked in protest and pain, until he suddenly stilled, chewed on his lip, looked up at Murphy, then at Daryl, then at the map, then at Murphy again.

"Yer friend…Simon.."

"Simmons" Murphy corrected Connor, falling quiet again, still feeling sad about his friend's death.

"Right…" Connor said, feeling stupid about the mistake because he usually knew everything about Murphy but not anymore.

"He told ye 'bout us, right?"

Murphy slowed his cleaning motion down and then looked at Connor warily.

"'bout what exactly?" he asked, because Keith had told him many things and he had told Connor many things about what Keith had told him.

"What we did in Boston. God's work 'n everything like that."

They looked at each other for a while, then Murphy nodded.

Yes, Keith had told him. People in Boston had told him. Treated him that way. Loved him, hated him, almost murdered him because of that. He knew that he and Connor had killed evil bastards, knew that it had ended with the both of them in prison, knew that this was one of the many reasons why he had all these tattoos. He knew it, but he couldn't quite remember it himself. Only vaguely, like he was watching it on a tv that was drifting around under water that was covered with oil, letting only bits and pieces, only distorted little fragments of images through.

"I was just thinking that we should keep doing that" Connor said and suddenly no longer looked at Murphy but kept looking at working Daryl outside, who was still putting up some defenses, hammering and dragging stuff around.

"Wha?" Murphy asked with a little frown.

Connor watched Daryl a little while longer until he finally turned his head to look at Murphy instead.

"Yeah, I mean if we gotta keep going from town ta town again and if we're already lookin fer people anyway, we might as well go out there looking fer evil bastards and kill some motherfuckers along te way."

Murphy just stared, eyeing Connor a little uneasily.

"Don't ye think that humanity's pretty much fucked in numbers as it is?"

Connor snorted angrily.

"Do ye really think humanity should keep going with scumbags like that and base its new foundations on scumbag life?"

Murphy looked down and mumbled a grumpy "No, 'f fuckin course not", giving in.

"Fuck this shit. This world right here, it needs people like us, Murph" the older MacManus said angrily and then looked at Daryl again.

"I mean just think about it. We're back tagether now. And even if Daryl finds his people again..I mean it's not like I don't wanna find them, too. They're our friends and they helped us so it would be nice ta find them but this shouldn't be our primary and final task. Even if we find them, what then? We found a new Boston slash farm slash prison slash Woodbury, it's gonna get overrun by walkers or psychos like the Governor or that Derek guy and his bitch, our friends are gonna get killed and gutted again, it's pretty much a never-ending circle if we keep going like tha."

Murphy now looked at Daryl and the farmland, too. Just listening, letting it sink in, thinking about it.

"It's good stuff that Daryl starts believing in good outcomes, but if we take that shit further and think it through, it's not a path we should follow. That white picked fence shit like we had in Woodbury, where we have this wee little sweet town full with friends and stay in one place forever and have barbeques and shit, that's not a life fer us. And it's not a life fer him either" Connor said, pointing at his friend outside.

"It's why we left Ireland ta go ta Boston, it's why we left our normal life and quit our job ta start killin people, 's why he never had a job in the first place and jumped into it the first moment I mentioned that we should go ta Augusta and Savannah. People like us, we take care of shit. We do shit. We make sure that white picked fence societies keep standing fer families and good people. They're gonna need someone ta destroy evil before it even gets ta them. 's what we've done, 's what we should do so that no more of our friends have ta die like Hershel, 's so that no more people get slaughtered like at the prison, in Woodbury, the golf club, or any other place where we saw people get murdered by outlaw scumbags. People who think they can get through with this shit just cos the world ended. Someone's gotta regulate those fuckers."

Murphy still wouldn't really say anything, although he could feel his own rage and righteousness grow inside of him.

"I mean, fuckers like that, they killed yer friend, too. Right? And…"

"Connor…"

"Someone should just…"

" _CON_."

Connor finally shut up and looked at his brother.

"I got it. All right. I'm with ye" Murphy said impatiently and resumed his cleaning of his gun for a while.

"Right…" Connor said, actually surprised by that. He had expected Murphy to put up more of a fight, especially since their relationship still wasn't quite the way it had used to be before the shot. "Right…"

"So what, ye wanna drag yer girlfriend along, too?" Murphy then asked, looking at Daryl again, just like Connor.

"Well we always worked with a sidekick. I think Roc 'n Rome wouldn't mind."

Murphy snorted.

"Yeah question is, would _he_."

"He's gonna get used ta it. I think he'd like it" Connor said, just kinda guessing that although Daryl had repeatedly told him about his disgust over the 'biblebanging psycho crap'. But it was true. He had seen Daryl murder people before. Out of self defense, sure. But lately, out of revenge and rather gruesome, too. Like the way he had mutilated that rapist last year. Or the way he had killed the Governor to avenge his brother's death.

"If ye say so."

"Fuck yeah I say so. I just know shit."

It was quiet for a while yet again as both brothers resumed their respective work, Connor fully falling quiet and being concentrated again whereas Murphy couldn't help but look at him more and more. He let his gaze travel across his twin's body, saw the bruises, remembered the history connected to this farm, heard his brother's previous monologue echo through his head.

Until he just had to ask.

"Connor?"

"Aye?" Connor answered absently, not really paying attention as he studied the map and made all sorts of circles and crosses.

Murphy chewed on his lip a little and looked back down at his weapon as well, shy to really pull it through but then he did.

"What exactly did those guys do ta ye? When they kept ye? I mean ye gave away Woodbury's location because…"

"If ye think I told them shit because of the stuff they did, yer fuckin wrong. Didn't get me ta say a word, didn't give away anything. They knew this shit beforehand" Connor immediately said, and Murphy was actually surprised when he could see and most of all _feel_ his brother shut down.

"Oh" Murphy said, still feeling worried because he just knew that some seriously fucked up shit must've happened to Connor.  
He wouldn't look like that otherwise, wouldn't act and talk like that otherwise and they both knew it.

"Okay, but if ye…"

"They did the usual shit they always do, Murph. Alright?" Connor said, a bit annoyed, but sounding rather calm. Or maybe he was playing that again, he couldn't really tell.

"It doesn't matter if it was sissy stuff though. Fuckers like that, they still should know that if you do shit, you gotta pay te price."

"Right" Murphy just said, giving in although he hadn't meant the conversation to go that way.

Connor looked at the map again and suddenly chuckled after a while, changing the topic.

"Holy fuck I think I just found that one town I discovered last year, 't had like that giant pizza restaurant. Screw te baddies and sheriff Rick. We should go check that out instead 'n eat pizza."

Murphy just snorted, seeing right through to the change of topic attempt. Connor chuckled some more.

"Fuck, I miss pizza" he muttered as he twisted and turned the map a bit, until he eventually grew tired of it and got up. Murphy looked up to see what he was doing. Connor yawned a little, then coughed and scratched the side of his neck as he started to walk towards the back area of the house.

"I'm gonna go take a piss and then help Daryl outside so it doesn't take tha fella forever ta come in."

"Aye, ye do that" Murphy muttered, still watching his brother, thinking about everything he had heard him say today. Wondering what could unfold.

* * *

It was no real surprise that Murphy was already sleeping like a log again. He could hear him snore, through the walls, all happy and carefree and probably dreaming about cigarettes and burgers or whatever his funny mind came up with sometimes. Once again Connor couldn't help but envy his brother, because here _he_ was again, awake, brooding, worrying. They had separate bedrooms this time, simply because the farmhouse was so big and because Murphy had insisted on it.

Connor had actually fallen asleep for a while, but two factors had kept him from sleeping through. 1) It didn't matter which side he slept on, it hurt like a motherfucker and the stabbing pain kept him awake and 2) when he had finally managed to _actually_ fall asleep the forming thunderstorm and bang of loud thunder had woke him up right away.

Oh well fuck it.

He got up with a painfilled clumsy grunt and just sat at the edge of the bed for a while, rubbing his face, moving a lazy hand through his messy blonde hair that was pointing straight up. For a short moment he got lost on that train of thoughts, figuring that he needed to cut his hair someday because it was getting annoyingly longer, then he did get up to get dressed again so he could go down and join Daryl on his night watch.

Daryl was keeping watch. Of course.

They were still back on that track and truth be told, it confused Connor a little bit. Although Daryl was undoubtedly happy whenever they were together, secretly smiling and watching, he was still keeping his distance again. Right after the kiss they had once again gone back to respectful distance between each other, the talking like casual friends, the whole lacking intimacy and depth.

He didn't quite understand why Daryl was being like that again, but it happened to be that way.

When he made his way down the stairs he could see Daryl lying on the couch, and almost to his shock, read a book there.

Connor left the last flight of stairs and the snorted with a little smirk, startling Daryl a bit, the white flash of lightning illuminating the Irishman's face on his way over to his friend.

"You? A _book_?" he asked with that continuous smile as Daryl raised an eyebrow.

"You? _Not_ eatin potatoes?" he countered, which made Connor chuckle and smirk even more as he sat down on the other couch opposite his friend, the one by the wall. "Touché" Connor said and then fell quiet. He leaned his head back and craned his neck a little as he closed his eyes, facing the ceiling, listening to the rain outside. He took his time to adjust to the almost gentle steady jabbing of the pain in his body.

Daryl, once again, just watched him. Let his eyes travel up and down his friend's bruised face, neck, chest that was covered by a holey dusty shirt. And once again, just like back in the kitchen, he couldn't fight the emotions that boiled up.

He didn't know if it was this place. If it was their history, Connor's bruises, or the combination of this place those bruises and their history, whatever sight and train of thought it was, it kept boiling up. Like he was still addicted to it. The feel of it. The urge to fight, for them to clash, maybe even go back to old times, with the addition of newer experiences.

"Kinda weird being back here, innit" Connor said and stopped Daryl's thinking. He cleared his throat and then turned his head a little so he could look at Daryl with tired eyes. The hunter chewed on his lips and then turned his head away after a moment, nodding.

"Hmhm" he agreed and Connor nodded as well, until Daryl added an almost quiet "Beat t'shit 'n all."

Connor snorted.

"Right? Always with te fuckin angry rednecks getting all touchy-feely with me."

"Haha" Daryl said angrily and the corner of Connor's mouth went up yet again.

They just enjoyed each other's quiet company for a while, then Daryl broke the silence.

"'s how I was raised" he muttered and shrugged a little as he looked at Connor. "Just didn't know how to handle guys like yah back then. So I did as I was taught.."

Connor just looked at his friend.

"Fight" Daryl finished and the older of the two let out a gentle sigh, getting that this was the hunter's way of apologizing for the past abuse.

"'s all right. We didn't come here ta discuss old shit that's long forgotten and dealt with."

Daryl huffed.

"Just came here t'find no one."

Connor tried to catch an undetected glimpse of his friend who was looking outside the window, obviously wondering and thinking about where their lost friends could be.

 _So what, ye wanna drag yer girlfriend along?_  
Well we always worked with a sidekick. I think Roc 'n Rome wouldn't mind.  
Yeah question is, would he.

"What are we gonna do if we can't find 'em anywhere?" Connor then asked, picking up on the hint and trying to pitch his new idea to his friend.  
Daryl turned his head to look at Connor, immediately stubborn, his look saying it all.

"'course we're gonna find 'em. This place ain't Russia, it's Georgia."

"Aye, but what _if_ we don't?"

Daryl rolled his eyes in annoyance and got up so he could sit and no longer lie on the couch.

"Then we're gonna go look for the right place t'stay and that's it."

Connor momentarily fell silent, contemplating how he should approach the topic without pissing Daryl off even more, no matter how much he really wanted to fill him in on the whole Saints business. The more he thought about it the more he wanted to do it, get back to business, be on top of the food and fight chain again. But it was obvious that Daryl was moody again, which made Connor unsure if his friend was ready to hear him out yet.

Of course. Daryl _was_ angry because Connor was pinching the idea that they possibly weren't going to find the others again. It was kind of logical and they both knew it. Of course Georgia wasn't as big as states like Russia. But still. It _was_ a state and it was massive. Even Cowetta county was large enough to lose people as soon as you took the wrong turning.

The truth was though, that he wasn't even mainly angry because of this fact, he was angry because he _wanted_ to. _Needed_ to. The truth was that all the happenings, all the talk and now the sight of his friend, all the untold shit and previous development, before the fall of Woodbury, before the flu, and now this location, made the urge even more obvious.

He wanted and needed to be angry because he wanted to put up a fight with Connor.  
He needed and wanted to fight because it had been almost a week now.

He knew it was pathetic, new that it was wrong and most of all, wrong place, wrong time. He knew that it was incredibly inconsiderate because his friend was injured and sick, but he couldn't help it. He was lonelier than he'd ever been, more desperate that he'd ever been, gladder than he'd ever been. Reason enough to justify the need and cause of this building aggression inside of him.

He wanted them to fuck.

No matter how stupid it was to have this idea now.  
He needed the upcoming fight because he didn't know how else to introduce that, to initiate that.

"Aye, and then? It's kinda getting boring and shitty doing the same course of actions every single time we get busted by some asshole…" Connor answered, snapping him out of it.

"So whatcha gonna do then, huh? Not give a crap 'bout the others and finding them cos you think it's boring?" Daryl growled, not really meaning it, but using it as fuel for his need to fight, ready to get it started."I didn't fuckin say that" Connor said, already sounding slightly offended by the accusation, so utterly clueless about Daryl's intent.

A flash of lighting.

"I was just saying that maybe we should consider all the possibilities and come up with a new strategy before…"

Daryl snorted angrily and got up, not just to move in general, but also, to get closer to his friend. He knew it was a clumsy and idiotic attempt. But that shit had worked before after all.

"Yeah right. You got all the shit you wanted, got your stupid retard brother back, got outta your psycho break…but it's totally logical that that shit ain't gonna happen for others. 'f course we ain't gonna find 'em and gotta ask how high as soon as you say jump now cos my _strategy_ ain't gonna work…"

"Would ye stop fuckin twistin the words in my mouth?! Fuckin chill you asshole!" the Irishman said and got up, full on throwing himself into the 'fight' because if he was honest, he had missed that, too, after all.

"I was just trying ta pinch the idea that maybe if we gonna go out there and look fer people, we might as well start looking fer evil bastards as well the way me 'n Murph did, with you, on the way, so we can do this fucked up shithole of a world a favor!" Connor exclaimed, shoving Daryl a little to get his point across. He even considered smacking him upside his stupid thick redneck skull to make him think about how incredibly stupid he was acting again, from one second to the next.

"And I said I ain't gonna join no biblebangin club" Daryl snarled and shoved Connor right back, against the living room wall that stretched left to right behind the couch the Irishman had been sitting on. Connor's back connected with the wall with a dull bang, making his still bruised body burn with pain yet again, but suddenly that didn't matter, because he finally got the point of it all.

He could see it in his friend's eyes, the way he moved and behaved. Of course, he did radiate aggression, but not the aggression he had used to express lots of times in the past, in places like this one right here. This aggression wasn't exactly about hurting and drawing blood and bruising. The blown pupils told him a different story. This was _sexual_ aggression.

Another flash of the lightning from the thunderstorm outside illuminated Daryl's face for a second and made him look almost creepy like that. With his flexed muscles, the dirt,the animalistic look on his face, his own fair share of battle scars, what was in his eyes. And maybe this place right here did bring some bad memories back, memories of both emotional and physical suffering.

But it was exactly all that that made it so _fitting._

In the end, Connor got the vibe, too. The vibe and the need. Their shared violent history made it _that_ much more urgent that instead of foolishly keeping up the verbal fight Daryl had initiated, Connor closed the distance between them to kiss his friend. He got that the fight had been a farce and just an excuse to initiate touch, because he knew how Daryl worked. He would probably never start this shit normally, tenderly.

He knew that his friend would never admit it, but he just knew that it were the bruises that finally made Daryl snap like that again. Connor knew that his friend was pretty much fucked on an emotional basis, from his childhood, all the stuff he'd been through. And if he was honest, he didn't even know himself if he pitied his friend because of that, or if he _liked_ that.

The truth was that no matter how painful and exhausting and traumatic that summer had been, sometimes, just sometimes, he missed that old Daryl. Those fights because they had been so grounding, so much about reality, that could snap him to the here and now, just like sleeping and snoring Murphy always managed to do on his own. Without the violence. Without the dominance.

Maybe they were both fucked. And maybe this was the exact reason they had found each other like that.

It only took seconds and Daryl immediately took over the dominant part, aggressively responding to the kiss and slamming Connor right back into the wall. There were many things he wanted to do in this very moment, things he would never dare to do in real life though. Girly shit, for example. Like telling the Irishman how much he had missed this, missed him, how he still couldn't believe that bastard had made it out alive, that he loved him, and never ever wanted the fucker to leave him.

Then there were the darker things, just like always, because he too missed their old times together, when it had been easy to let go of his anger by letting it out on Connor, when he hadn't cared about him yet, when he'd been an easy to get punching bag, a nice barfight enemy in an apocalyptic world. Just like before he wanted to add bruises of his own to the skin under his touch, wanted to mark his territory and see the pain so he could feel powerful, strong, on top of it all, but just like the girly shit he wouldn't do any of that either. Because he didn't want to hurt his friend, because he wanted him to get better, because the bruises looked more terrible every time he saw them, when he lifted the shirt a bit to get to the belt there.

For a short while, they just kept kissing like that. Incredibly harsh and aggressive, almost biting and most certainly fighting for dominance under heated grunts and gasps, and it was especially Daryl who already started moving and thrusting his groin against his friend's thigh, although they weren't even a tiny bit undressed yet. But things were getting more and more urgent with each passing second simply because it had been too long, because the past couple of days had been such a close call, because they were needy and desperate.

Connor was actually surprised that Daryl wasn't reluctant or shy at all. It was almost scary how quickly he got down to business, continuously thrusting against his thigh as he almost violently tried to reach for Connor's belt and jeans button there, to get to flesh, to not just make this all about the frustrating dry humping.

And another thing Connor didn't exactly consider a bad thing or that he minded that much, if it weren't for the slightly painful sting that came along with it because it happened all over his cuts and bruises. The neck thing. Daryl was almost mindlessly and heatedly kissing his neck again (practically eating it if you must know, Connor thought and shivered, both because it sent a hot flash through his body all the way to his groin, but also because it was slightly disgusting with all the spit and the feel of a tongue against already abused skin).

The hunter was not just doing it out of habit by now but also because of this place and the memories connected to it. How bruised Connor's neck had been back then, after the hanging. The truth was that right now, he even wanted to have that old Connor here, from their farm days, after yet another fight of theirs. Of course, back then they had been different. Far more distant, certainly not really friends yet, most certainly not 'lovers' yet, but there had been something about their relationship.

Maybe he tried to imagine that now, almost secretly, no matter how twisted and dark it was. Fucking this Connor after another fight of theirs. Fucking him so he would stop crying every night, to make it better. He immediately tried to kill the thought, tried to focus on the here and now, but he couldn't fight it, the fact that this idea got him going even more, aroused him even more.

He fought Connor's belt almost frantically and then pulled both his jeans and underwear down, if just a tiny bit to free the heated, aroused flesh there. He then immediately let go of the pants with one hand to use it, bury his fingers in his hair so he could yank on it and somehow channel his own arousal, as he wrapped the other hand around his friend's member to start jerking him off, all the while thrusting his own groin continuously against his now bare thigh.

Daryl was actually quite surprised about his own rushed and thoughtless actions, how heated and desperate he really was, but the hour of just sitting on that street, abandoned, completely on his own without the group or Connor and Murphy had really taken its toll on him. He had told himself over and over again, that if Connor came back from the dead he was going to let him know what was really going on.

Of course, even now after having found him he was doing the same mistakes again, most of the time, closing himself off, not really letting anyone close or in, keeping his distance, throwing his fair share of complaints and insults just to stay the typical grumpy redneck. But during this moment right here, he was willing to just _love_ the guy and drop his act, just like Connor seemed to be doing this with his own.

They were both excellent actors when it came to hiding any sort of emotion and vulnerability. But when it came to this right here, they were also terribly _bad_ at hiding anything, and so he gave in. Daryl knew that he was going to feel embarrassed about this in about ten minutes, what he was doing, what he was touching and muttering, all the noises that escaped his mouth against his will like the heavy breathing and grunting, but, since he didn't feel embarrassed about it _yet_ he eagerly kept going, momentarily stopping the stroking motion so he could give Connor better access to his own jeans and belt.

Connor was actually real fucking glad that Daryl stopped jerking him off for a moment, because otherwise he wasn't sure how much longer he would've lasted. Just like Daryl he was pretty fucking desperate for release. Sex was really a curse in that regard. He had been really fine with not fucking anyone for years because he had been used to it, almost forgotten about what it felt like to have that urge for it. But, now that he'd gotten started with it again, had learned it again, had felt it again, it had already become pretty fucking hard to go for days _without_ having sex, and all the stress they'd had for the past couple of days as well as the sudden halt of their new found activity had only added up to it.

He'd always tried hard not to laugh whenever it had been Daryl to come too early, premature and unexperienced Daryl, but now he was suddenly the one having to fight to hold back, which certainly was a bad thing. His entire body was already sore from Daryl's way of manhandling him and pinning him to the wall, or the constant shoving of a knee somewhere or a clumsy elbow there, he was feeling cold from the wall and the cool air on his bare skin, but this was nothing compared to the heat he felt at the same time, a heat and tightness that almost made him want to explode.

As he clumsily and quickly freed Daryl's waist to get to the point as well he was quite surprised about his own erection, because it almost _hurt_ to be this needy and impatient. He even caught his mind slipping and accusing again, cursing that Daryl wasn't a girl because he actually really wanted to _fuck_ and just let go right now, but then again, it wasn't exactly the first time they were making do like that.

As soon as Daryl's manhood was freed as well it got more serious, but also a bit hilarious. They wouldn't quite admit that the both of them actually rather wanted to do this the proper way. Naked for one thing, on a bed. Because this way, there were now only fighting for balance, their half-lowered pants permitting any sort of real movement without the possible threat of falling. They were also still fighting for dominance, now no longer trying to use thighs as leverage but actually trying to tangle their legs somehow, thrusting more harshly, more energetically.

Connor even tried to place a hand on Daryl's bare ass for support and also to cause more friction but the hunter immediately slapped it away, leaving it to Connor to grab his hip instead, which was a nicer contrast simply because _hallelujah, it also happened to be closer to his dick this way.  
_  
For a hectic and sticky couple of minutes, all they did was breathe heavily, groan occasionally, jerk each other off and thrust an awful lot. Then it was suddenly Daryl who let go of Connor so he could wrap his arms around his friend's hip, place both his hands on his naked ass and then squeeze hard and actually _pull_ a bit, upward, so he could get a better angle and thrust properly, now that he was getting so _close_.

This also happened to be the second time that he really considered making it the proper deal. It wasn't just about the fact that it would cause more friction and be that much better, like sleeping with a woman, it was also about the fact that he wanted to do this _with Connor_. This time he was actually surprised by this train of thoughts, but it was true, no matter how much it would mark him 'gay' or whatever his family and surroundings had called it. He wanted that last barrier to be gone between them, to finally fucking make it official that it just could no longer be about 'win-win' or friends who are just helping each other out until the right chick comes along. Because it was that way. There was no denying and he knew it. It wasn't just about having sex. It was about having sex with each other.

But he wouldn't pull it through. For so many reasons. Because of his pride and shame that still outweighed his 'love' for Connor, but also, because he was scared. He knew it was unlikely that Connor was going to let him do it. Fooling around was one thing. But he was a Catholic. He had his rules and standards. That just had to be too much.

So all he could do was imagine it and thrust harder, harsher and more energetic, simply grabbing Connor's backside and squeezing just harder until it was certain there were going to be bruises the next day and then it did happen, release crushing over him as he tried his hardest to muffle a surprised shout. He wanted to cheer out loud because it felt so freaking _fantastic_ , because he had come to love sharing this with his friend, having sex, getting intimate all the while feeling less and less scared of it. Up until now, to the post-coital guilt, he hadn't even wasted a single thought on his father or family or past. It had just been about them, being together, being close, having each other back.

Connor let out an approving little grunt when Daryl finally stopped grabbing him like that, not just bruising every inch of him but also making it almost impossible to breathe, and that sound of approval got even more pronounced when he was rewarded for his patience and toleration with a rough hand around his dick yet again. _Daryl Dixon. Giving him a handjob even when selfish asshole him was already done. What a fucking miracle._

Even more surprising. Daryl was looking at him strangely, not just with that post-orgasm look but also with a surprisingly different look on his face in general. No angry frowns or judging looks.. An actual thoughtful one. Maybe even appreciating. Loving. Connor would say something if he weren't so occupied with trying to focus on the hand between his legs, what it did, what it pulled from him, because it was damn right about time he found release as well.

Daryl finally closed the distance between them again, kissed Connor clumsily, harshly and most of all only for a short time because he didn't like it too much, then he decided to concentrate the contact of lips and skin somewhere else, further down, along the jaw and then neck again, because he already knew that it was his friend's weak spot.

Connor immediately thrusted more into the hand, and it didn't take much until it pulled his orgasm from him as well. Just like Daryl he kept freakishly quiet about it although he didn't want to, but the flexing of his muscles and hands against the fabric of the hunter's shirt gave it away. Then it got quiet again, apart from their heavy, sweaty breathing. That, and their mutually surprised huffs when they ended up in an awkwardly calm and almost tender embrace.

Now that all the heat and desperation was gone other sounds were also escaping Connor's mouth, a little cough here, and painful grunts and winces there. Because now that they were done the crazy high feeling and prickling in his skin was more and more getting replaced by pain from the beatings, the bruises, the cuts, and all the other damage that had been done. He even started shivering a bit as he fought really hard to cut it out, because it was obvious that Daryl needed this right now, the near, the intimacy they usually never had when they were together on any other normal day.

The pain was almost numbing his entire body because it was so bad, and maybe Daryl could feel it from the way he tensed up more and more, but then again, it was quite ironic because it was so them, piecing and holding each other together no matter how fucked they were.

Daryl on the other hand, let his guard down almost completely, if only just for a moment.

"I ain't…no guy of great words'n shit like that" he mumbled after a very long while, staring outside the window to Connor's right, pausing because it was really hard to admit that. "but 'm real glad you ain't gone" he said, making his friend smile. Connor could momentarily ignore all the not so nice things like the pain and the fact that he was sticky and sweaty again and that it was getting cold, because he knew what Daryl was really trying to say, trying to phrase, although he knew that real meaning would never leave the hunter's lips.

"Glad you ain't gone, too" he eventually said, quietly, and then immediately wanted to hit himself because _Jesus fucking Christ was this chick-flick worthy_. Daryl seemed to be getting the vibe, too, because then he suddenly and almost abruptly let go, adjusted his clothes, gave Connor a short little look and then turned around to get some distance between them again.

"I gotta take a piss" he muttered and then bailed, which made Connor smirk, then chuckle with a little headshake as he adjusted his clothes.

"Fuckin wuss" he muttered, although he didn't know if he meant Daryl or himself.


	33. Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyahs! I'm back with two chapters at once this time. I apologize for any boringness or repetition. I wanted this chapter right here to be all about the dream symbology just like in BDS I, but I might have failed miserably, plus, it's all about the Connor character development after the abduction thing, so bear with me.

For a while he just lay there and watched his brother sleep. He could hear the cluttering rain outside, heard it hit the windowpane in a steady, almost calming rhythm. It was so weird but also good to be lying here like that, next to his brother, feeling like that. Maybe it was slightly embarrassing to be lying next to him only minutes after he'd had sex with Daryl, a guy who looked exactly like him, but this was so different. The whole thing was different.

He remembered those times, those fucked up times when he'd been lying in a bed on this property right here, last year. Murphy had been lying next to him back then, too. Only that back then, he had been nothing but a memory, a hallucination, haunting him because of the real man who had been lying next to him back then, a man with his face. That man with his face that had used to hate him, that had almost beaten him to death one time, a man who loved him now and that without question.

For a while, Connor just lay there and pondered, in his postcoidal, sleepy state, appreciating and loving the fact that his brother really was there, that he could touch him and feel him live, breathe sleep. He thought about how many things had changed and how many things had stayed the same. The truth was that he still wasn't quite right in his head and he knew it, probably never would be, because this fucked up end of the world thing had taken its toll on everyone after all. He remembered that last year when he had wished for nothing more than for their old world to come back, with Murphy. But now that he thought about it, the truth was that he didn't even really want it anymore, _at all_ , and that scared him a little bit.

He had everything he needed, maybe even had more than he'd ever had in their old life.

He had Murphy. He had a best friend. Maybe even a lover or what-fucking-ever, one thing he'd never really had his entire life. Not just because of the gay thing, but also in general. He'd never want their old life back because there was no way in hell he was going to give Daryl up, that and what they had now. Because he knew that it would be impossible to have this in their old world. There were so many things that had limited them in this past life.

Sure, their new life was limiting, too, dangerous and sometimes even boring as fuck with the lack of proper food, society and entertainment. Especially now that Woodbury was gone, there safe haven was gone, so many people were gone. But it was also that much more real. Surprisingly real and lively, despite of how dead everything else was in this world.

He could love a man now. Without judging eyes surrouding them. If he wanted something, be it clothes or books or whatever, he could just take them. There was no money, no time, no schedules, no nothing, no more task now, too, because this had disappeared along with Woodbury as well. They did no longer have to run and hide from police, the media, everyone like back then, not even from walkers now. And if they wanted to kill someone, they could go right ahead and do it. Without any real consequences. And it was that exact sudden train of thought that made him worry a bit, had made him worry ever since he had clobbered that young kid to death just a couple of weeks ago, in this forest when they had been on their way back to Woodbury after their trip to Savannah.

Back in the old days, he had seen their killing as a sheer job. A task god had given to them in order to cleanse the world, to make it a better place. But lately, ever since there were no more rules and no more consequences, ever since what had happened with Murphy, after the prison and now Woodbury, killing was getting more and more about rage, about revenge and most of all…joy.

He enjoyed it.

He enjoyed that they were still alive in this world, that they kept surviving whereas everybody else was dying around them, that they could decide who lived and who died if they wanted to.

The truth was that he didn't even really care about the others disappearing or dying anymore. As long as he had Murphy and Daryl, he was actually quite okay with it. For the most part.

Maybe it was because they had killed so many beings in just a year. He had actually lost count of how many walkers he had killed, lost count of how many people he had killed since the outbreak. Sure. Walkers were dead. Walkers were disease ridden, dangerous…things. But still. They had once been people. They looked like people. And it didn't subtract anything from the fact that he was _killing_ someone or something. Maybe it was making him indifferent to what was right and wrong. Maybe it was making him go numb to the act. Maybe it was turning into a habit. Maybe they were turning him into the same as them. Mindless killing machine. Infected with their hunger for death. Infected, after their supposedly deadly bites.

Connor let out a little sigh and shook his head, quickly shaking it once to get rid of these thoughts.

Nope. This lying here and thinking was about the fact that so much had changed since last year, since he'd last been here. He was on top of it again. He was _happy_ now. He had Daryl. And Murph. And lots of love and friendship. Not hatred and destruction.

Fuck yeah. He was doing fine.

He turned on his back and raised his left arm, turning it around so he could face the soft underside of his forearm, so he could see the scar there. He then used his right hand to rub it gently, the hard surface of the scar that had the shape of that walker's teeth.

He remembered the struggle, remembered the fight when that undead bastard had tackled him to the ground, trying to bite him, gut him just like Dale. He remembered the smell of fire and death, remembered the hot yellow and red color of the burning barn in the distance. He remembered the echo of that loud gunshot somewhere close to them, remembered losing grip of that walker and then, the sudden sharp pain in his arm when the undead had managed to bury his teeth in his flesh there.

He remembered that agonized scream that had escaped his mouth, right here, just downstairs on that godforsaken night, that night when he had first really realized that he had wanted to live all along, despite Murphy not being there. He remembered that desperate feeling, that frantically trying to come up with a solution just so he didn't have to die, because he didn't want to, because he never had.

It had always been about survival. It had always been about _living_.  
Not dying, not death or killing, be it himself or anyone else.  
it had always been about coming out on top.

He let out a final little sigh and then moved his arms back down, deciding that it was time to stop freaking brooding and then closed his eyes to sleep, although he knew that it was another one of them nights were he wouldn't be getting much sleep anyway.

* * *

„ _This is stupid, Connor" Murphy mumbled as he helplessly and nervously shifted from one foot to the other, over and over again, on the spot. He also turned his head multiple times, trying to have a peek around the edge of the large haystack they were hiding behind. He could see their village in the distance, and although it was hidden behind other houses, he knew damn fine where their little house and farm was. Most importantly, where Ma was. He knew that Ma was far enough away so it would be impossible for her to make them out, know where they were, but even with that certain knowledge, Murphy didn't quite trust it._

 _Ma had laser eyes._  
 _She_ _**always** _ _knew._

_"Shut it, ye wanted ta do this, didn'tche? Why do ye always have ta be such a fockin baby?" Connor answered._

_"Swear!" Murphy protested and smacked Connor up his head, imitating their mother but actually using it to take revenge on his sibling for calling him a baby._

_"'f course I wanna do this, but I'm just saying, hiding here is schtupid, what if Ma's gonna find out? Cos she did last time we…"_

_"Yer just scared of using te gun, fuckin babyface. Go back home then and let real men do this" Connor said and then grinned at his brother as he put the two shells in their uncle Sibeal's shotgun and then closed the Barrel, holding the gun the way their uncle had shown them. For a moment he just held it and pointed it at a tree in the far distance, smirking. Murphy just knew that he was obviously thinking about his stupid Western movies right now, probably playing that he was part of it, too. When Connor even started cackling and obviously seemed to enjoy holding the gun while he_ _**wasn't** _ _allowed to, Murphy finally lost it._

_"I TOLD YE 'M NOT A…." the younger MacManus burst out the moment their eyes met._

_"SHHHHH!" Connor interrupted his roaring sibling and shoved him back. "If ye keep making that ruckus she's gonna find us fer sure, now shut it! We said we're gonna do this so we're gonna do this. Trust me, I thought this through, she's never gonna find out."_

_Murphy actually bit his lower lip hard to keep the upcoming outburst in, and the red in his face still gave it away, but at least he was listening now, keeping quiet now. He even rolled his eyes because he just knew that if Connor said he'd planned it through, Ma was gonna find out for sure. Connor looked at Murphy a moment longer and then finally looked at the shotgun in his hand again, stroking it a bit, with respect. He got lost in thoughts again and Murphy saw it as his chance to finally get a hold of it, too,_

_"Gimme dat" he suddenly said and grabbed the shotgun, yanking on it so hard and grabbing it so fast that Connor didn't stand a chance of actually keeping it in his hands._

_"See who's a baby now….POW POW POW!" Murphy shouted and started running, towards the bushes where the geese were. "I'm gonna get te first one, babyface! TA!" He was running and playing just like they always did when they were playing hide and seek or cops and robbers in the field, only that this time it wasn't a toy gun, but a real gun._

_He felt_ _**awesome** _ _._

_"Murph!" Connor shouted somewhere in the distance and ran after him, but Murphy chose to ignore him on purpose._

_"Murph, wa…woah" Connor said and then suddenly slipped, lading face down on the muddy ground of the field. Murphy immediately stopped running and turned around to look if Connor was alright, the look of utter concern and fear flashing across his face for just a second, but then he started giggling and laughing when he saw that Connor wasn't hurt and crying but covered in mud and cursing._

_"HA!HA!" Murphy shouted at him, pointing with his finger, laughing at him._

_Connor tried to clumsily get back up and now looked equally angry to Murphy's earlier outburst._

_"Ye fuckin dickhead!" he shouted and tried his hardest not to cry because he had hurt his still bruised knees yet again. "Running around with a loaded shotgun, who's the idiot now? Gimme that back, ye don't even know how ta shoot it, uncle Sibeal only showed_ _**me** _ _last week!" Connor exclaimed, only that the last part was a lie. Of course they had never done anything without the other being there, too. Murphy knew that, too, but he still couldn't help but feel jealous and hurt, the exact thing Connor had been trying to achieve._

_"Bullshit!" little Murphy yelled, one of his latest favourite swear words he had heard the bigger kids say on the playground two days ago._

_He looked up when he noticed the geese flying up high in the sky, alarmed by their yelling and playing. And he took it as invitation. Fuck Connor, he thought. He was gonna show him._ _No more bossing around._

_Murphy grabbed the weapon the way he had been taught by a silly drunk uncle Sibeal in the backroom of the Anvil, raised it and pointed the actually loaded shotgun at the sky, at the swarm of geese. He suddenly did no longer laugh or play but actually took his time aiming, looking almost surprisingly calm and concentrated, blending everything out. When they flew right past him, he pulled the trigger.  
_

_Within split seconds, too many things were happening at once. The same shot, ringing only once, with everything happening at the same time, introduced by the same incredibly loud BANG._  
 _The goose were flying. One was hit and scattered into rain of blood and feathers as it fell to the ground._  
 _BANG._  
 _He saw the blasted heads of endless mobsters who had been kneeling in front of him, saw their brains get splattered all across the room, pieces of brain matter and bone fragments raining down and staining a white carpet as they fell to the ground._  
 _Et Spiritus Sancti._  
 _BANG._  
 _Adult and blood covered Connor was standing right in front of him, eyes red and tearstained, sobbing. A smoking gun in his shaking hand as he watched him fall. Murphy's ears were ringing, his head was thrown back and he felt an incredibly intense pain on the left side of his forehead. Just for a split second he felt something hot and burning enter his brain and sending shockwaves right through it._

_BANG._

_The grip of the shotgun connected hard with his young face, making him see hot white stars, making him taste blood in his mouth as the blast ripped him of his skinny childish legs and threw him all the way back down, facing the sky with flying geese as he landed hard on the…._

Bed.

_**The three shall spread their blackened wings and be the vengeful striking hammer of god.** _

BANG. The crash of thunder. Outside the windows of Hershel's farmhouse.

Murphy startled and shifted, shaking himself awake.

There were no fleeing geese and flying feathers in the sky. Just the gentle almost comforting clattering of raindrops against the windowpane.

He was staring at the ceiling of Hershel's guest room, felt a familiar figure shift beside him as well.

"Murph?" sleepy adult Connor muttered next to him, and Murphy automatically reached for his hand under the blanket.

* * *

_He could feel the sweat running down his forehead and nose in a steady flow and rhythm._

_Tap. Tap._

_Another droplet of sweat, dripping down from the tip of his nose._

_He could feel the uncomfortable bite of the rope around his wrists, could feel it dig deep into the abused flesh. This pain paled in comparison to the fever he was currently trying to fight, or the constant thumping of all the bruises that covered his entire body. He didn't even need to close his eyes or concentrate and he could still see them, in front of him, circling him, beating him and hurting him just so they could get him to talk. Connor had been laughing through it. Not just because they were such amateurs, but also because this was him trying anything to hide the fact that he was worried sick about Hershel._

_How was he doing? Was the old man okay?_  
 _How the fuck were they going to get out?_

_Once again he found it incredibly difficult to breathe. The flu was incredibly harsh and painful, and it took him all the strength he had left to fight it as good as he could. He knew that if he gave in now he was probably going to die, and he certainly wasn't of much use for Hershel if he ended up dead before he could get the old man out of here._

_And he_ _**needed** _ _to do just that._

_It was his fault Hershel was here with him now after all, although the old farmer had absolutely nothing to do with these people or what had happened to their dead 'friends'._

_He wondered where Daryl was._  
 _He wondered where Murphy was and if he was alright._  
 _He wondered what that fucker Terry had in store for him._

_Just thinking about that murderous bastard made Connor's blood boil, and this time it wasn't because of the fever.  
He was once again quite surprised by the sudden forceful wave of wrath that overcame him, that sheer bloodlust and craving for murder._

_He wanted to kill them._  
 _He wanted to kill them all._

_He wanted to free himself, kill this entire group with his bare hands just to make them feel the wrath of god, make them feel that there was no place for them on this earth, during the final test. He wanted to go out there, kill them all, free Hershel, get back to Woodbury, grab a car, and then go out there to kill this Terry motherfucker next. He was so done playing nice. So done playing happy family in a lovely little town with a white picked fence._

_He should've known, Connor told himself, as he fought the rope around his wrists once more. He should've known that with each positive outcome and good times, there was going to come a major fucked up downside along with it. It's just how this fucked up world worked now. Get out of prison? Boom, have the end of the world and shoot your own brother. Found a new friend and got over your depression? Boom. Get bitten. Found a new lovely place to stay? Boom, let's watch Lori, T-Dog and all the others die. Finally get along really well with Daryl? Boom, let's kill his brother and nearly kill him as well. Found a new city and hope for a cure? Boom, let them try to kill you. Found out that your brother is still alive? Boom, here have some memory loss and an awful lot of struggling. And last but not least: get a great town going again and get along with your long lost brother? Get sick. Get abducted._

_Abso-lutely-fucking-brilliant._

_He should've known._

_If he got out of here, and damn fucking right he was going to get out of here, he was going to be done pretending that everything was fine, that there was space for a new naive happy life behind walls and fences with a big family and barbeques. No more pretending that walkers were their only problem and that everything else was going to handle itself. No matter how hard he fought though, he was getting weaker and weaker. Even the pain seemed to get less because he started drifting, started to fall asleep, started to…._

_BANG._

_Connor didn't know what was going on for a moment as his head snapped back up, eyes fluttering because the light in front of him was blinding him. He blinked a couple of times but it was rather slow because he was sleepy, and it took him a moment to understand that he had passed out at some point. He awkwardly tried to sit upright and raised his head, even forcing himself to smile at his hostage takers, so he could immediately put up the act again, showing no weakness although he was weak beyond proportions now._

_The open door revealed a sight that made him both incredibly furious and also incredibly scared._

_The group of three men and one woman were forcing a stumbling Hershel to enter the room they kept the Irishman in, and it was the sight of the old man that made Connor unable to keep up his act for just a moment. Although it looked like they hadn't been as hard on the old man as they had been on Connor, Hershel still didn't look good at all. He was bloody as well and had a few bruises, but even now some sort of pride and wisdom seemed to radiate from him._

_Everything happened within a blink, like someone was fastforwarding through an old tape that was drenched in dark-red._

_"Jess."_

_The woman started cutting. Hershel whimpered and then even yelped a bit, as Jess proceeded cutting at the right side of his neck, causing it to bleed, getting closer and closer to his throat. The woman was giggling again, like she was once again turned on by the whole, fucked up thing. Connor clenched his fists hard behind his back, felt his fingernails dig deeper and deeper into his already abused skin. He felt so much hate that it actually scared him. For the first time in his life, he wanted to hurt and kill a woman._

_"I'm gonna kill you" the Irishman snarled, matter of factly, looking right in her boyfriend's eyes instead. He was rather surprised by his own calmness, but it was appropriate because it was true. He knew he was going to do it. He… was going to murder them all. Each and everyone of them. They didn't even have_ _**any idea** _ _who they were dealing with._

_"As soon as 'm getting outta here, and 'm tellin ye, 'm gonna get outta here, I'm gonna blow yer brains out with yer own fuckin gun" he said, never stopping his staring at Derek, who continued to look right back at him._

_Fast forward._

_Jessica's knife was slitting Hershel's throat wide open, causing a gush of blood to spray out of the wound. Connor could see the life force die in the old man's eyes. He could still hear the disgusting dripping and spraying of blood and the couple of gurgling sounds that escaped the severed windpipe and throat. The spray of blood that was now raining down on him, baptizing him, showering him in the blood of the innocent._

_BANG._

_There he was, landing on his back, still tied to the chair, kicking at thin air as he watched the woman behead Hershel, driving him insane in his rage, his own bloodlust and craving for revenge._

_I'm going to kill you._

_Snap._

_There it was, the rope, snapping behind his back as he knelt on the street in front of Woodbury's walls, the heavy cold loving weight of the bloody knife in his hand as a grinning Derek came closer and closer to him. And then he suddenly got up in one swift motion, diving right into Derek before he could hit him with the machete. He used the upward motion to support his own attack, diving into the man and then burying his girlfriend's knife deep in his stomach, making him gasp in utter surprise and shock._

_It felt so incredibly fucking_ _**good** _ _to gut this motherfucker. How the blood drenched both their clothes, ran down on them. He relished each terrified, muffled and shocked gasp and each grunt that escaped the other dying man's mouth as he dug the knife deeper and deeper into his guts, the river of blood that, once again, seemed to engulf him, close in on him, baptized him, called him home._

_And Connor gave in to a tiny, exhausted but almost sadistic smile the moment he felt Derek struggle against him, felt him die as he actually cut him wide open, killed him, just like he had promised. Twisting the knife around some, until he slowly started forcing it upwards, opening his former attackers belly more and more, making the blood flow out. Even some guts._

_He wanted to laugh._

_He knew it was fucked up. He knew it was sadistic and insane._  
 _But he still enjoyed it. Enjoyed it_ _**very** _ _fucking much._

_Another blink of the eye, another image stained in bright red, then she came running, Jessica,, with the gun in her hand, so close to…._

_BANG._

_A bullet traveling right through her brain, exiting her forehead, and for a second she was Murphy, in Boston, the bullet hitting his head hard, sending him flying back._

Connor startled and opened his eyes wide, having been awoken by the bang he had thought to be the gunshot when actually, it was the thunderstorm outside their window.  
 _  
_ _ **When I vest my flashing sword, and my hand takes hold in judgment, I will take vengeance upon mine enemies, and I will repay those who haze me.  
**_ __ **Never shall innocent blood be shed, yet the blood of the wicked** **shall flow like a river** **.**

He could feel Murphy move and shift next to him, knew that his brother had awoken at the same time as him.  
Maybe because of the thunder, maybe because of their connection, he didn't know, but he could feel that Murphy was awake.

"Murph?" he asked, gently, surprisingly gentle after his ever so violent dream.

Then he felt his twin reach for his hand under the blanket. Connor looked down between them, where their fingers connected and then intertwined them, squeezing gently, smiling. He was glad that Murphy was not mad at him for sleeping in the same bed as him although they had agreed to sleep in separate bedrooms earlier tonight.

He was glad that Murphy was here with him now, after this dream, that he was here to bring him right back down to earth. He thought that maybe Murphy had felt his dream with him and that he had woken him up because of that, he even already wanted to get angry with himself because of it, but when Murphy suddenly spoke, it became obvious that it wasn't because of his dream at all, but because of an other one.

"Did we…ever shoot a shotgun when we were little?" Murphy suddenly asked, absently scratching the beard on his chin until he suddenly turned his head to look at Connor. He looked a little confused and frowned, like he was trying hard to remember. Connor chewed on his lip a little, yawned, rubbed his face and then turned on his side, still holding Murphy's hand.

"Aye, lotsa times. Uncle Sibeal taught us, 'n sometimes we helped the neighbors.."

"No, I mean when we were little and when we weren't even sapposed ta shoot it…" Murphy said, turning around as well. Connor looked at his brother with a little frown for a moment, then his face lit up, the edges of his mouth moving up until he suddenly started laughing.

"Aye, aye, oh fuck, I almost forgot" Connor said, chuckling, wiping his nose. Murphy watched him curiously, then a bit impatiently as he waited for Connor to explain. The older MacManus cleared his throat and shook his head a little, using his right thumb to stroke the back of Murphy's hand in his own.

"I dunno how old we were…but… we stole Sibeal's gun one day and went outside ta shoot shit. Those geese by the pond. Ye grabbed te shotgun, aimed fer them, pulled the trigger, and that thing like WAM knocked ye on yer arse cos you were too small and underestimated te recoil."

Murphy smirked a little, because now the dream suddenly made sense. Connor still chuckled and shook his head.

"There was blood everywhere cos te grip hit yer nose and mouth…ye had a split lip, nosebleed and lost two teeth cos 'a that…..Before me, by te way. I was yelling…ye were crying and screaming, but then yer laughing cos ye actually hit one of those feathery fuckers…"

Murphy smiled and felt a sudden flash of blurry, but familiar warm emotions rush over him. If he closed his eyes a little, he saw blurry and overexposed snapshots of shouting Connor above him, a striking silhouette against the bright Irish sky as he tried to claim his conscious back after that heavy recoil knockout. If he closed his eyes he could vaguely smell that salty Irish air, feel Connor's so much younger fingers touch his face, stroke his cheek as he desperately tried to make out if something was seriously wrong with his stupid idiot brother.

Although he was crying from the knockback and felt all that pain in his face he suddenly had to laugh because it was so ridiculous and funny, not just in this memory, but also in real life. The overexposed, blurry snapshots of Connor kept coming and going until there was a short, bright and clear one. He smiled and laughed because _he_ was there right with him.

His _big brother_ , (he'd always _always_ known and felt that Connor was his big brother, no matter how much he denied it on the outside) yelling at him and smacking him up his head with tears in his eyes, desperately trying to hide how fucking worried he'd been, going right back into protective mode but yelling at him for doing something so stupid, yelling at him just like their mother.

It made Murphy laugh and smile despite the pain because he still felt _at home_ and the most important thing of it all – not alone. He knew he was loved. And the memories of little kids hands and overexposed blurry fingers on his face were replaced with the actual real time feeling of a much older and rougher hand that was intertwined with his, squeezing.

If this was what forgiveness felt like, forgiveness for the headshot and all the struggle since Boston, then it sure felt nice and was so worth it.

"But trust me, I didn't have nothing ta laugh about fer like two weeks. Ma nearly ripped me head off and nearly busted me arse with the beating I got fer talking ye inta this shit. You lucky fucker didn't get yer ass beat of course, cos ye already looked like shit from te shotgun anyway. And then…"

Murphy just listened and looked at Connor, looked at him deeply, without his twin really noticing.

He knew some memories would never ever come back, knew that this nightmare of getting shot was going to haunt him for many many years, but it didn't really matter any more. With each passing day he felt less and less angry with Connor, knew that it would be wrong, because there was something special between them. It was like destiny, god's will, he thought as he looked down on their intertwined hands, looked at the crosses on their arms. The memories and finding Connor, in a really bad shape but still finding him, over and over again, this just had to be a sign.

They belonged together.  
God had given them a calling, a job, something they needed to do together.  
He fully agreed with Connor's talk from earlier today now.

He grabbed his hand tighter.

Giving the approval, answering the call.  
He was going to do it.  
They were going to go back to the way they had used to be.

"Fucker" Connor muttered and hit Murphy's thigh in regards to the end of their childhood memory and the heart attack he'd had.

They both smiled for a while and Connor soon got lost in thoughts again, remembering his own dream, his own calling.  
Murphy turned his head a little to stare at the ceiling again, until he started talking once more.

"I think I remembered that" he muttered, letting Connor in on what this had been about.

His sibling looked at him absently, for a while, until his eyes got stuck on the large scar on Murphy's forehead once again.

"The shotgun thing" Murphy just said and then started chewing on his fingernails.

"Maybe it's tha farmhouse…I dunno. 's all still pretty fuckin blurry…"

"Yer gonna remember everything one day" Connor said and squeezed his sibling's hand once again, although he didn't believe what he said. He knew enough about brains and stuff from documentaries to know that it would be impossible for Murphy to ever get their old life back again.

But it still looked like he was trying to.

Stubborn Murphy. Even now.

"Ye should get some more sleep, Murph" Connor just muttered, because he didn't want to keep talking about it. Murphy nodded after a while, because he was still exhausted and tired, since the dream and thunder had woken him up far to early. He eventually turned on his side and surprised Connor even more when he actually almost cuddled up to his side and closed his eyes, staying very close to him. Connor just turned his head a little, wincing at the pain he still felt on the side of his neck because of the cut and then just looked at Murphy, watched him sleep, his own dream soon coming back to him, too. Making him wonder with tired eyes.

* * *

" _Dad?"_

_He was staring at the bloody mutilated body on the ground, saw the old man reach out for him with bloody fingers while the other hand desperately tried to hold his guts inside. These undead things had ripped him wide open, injuring him beyond reasonable proportions. It was true that he had spent years upon years wishing for his father's death, but certainly not for this. This summer had supposed to be different, had supposed to be about maybe changing things once and for all._

_I want t'see yah._

_That's what the guy had told him on the phone, sounding drunk as hell once again, but at the same time, strangely different. Moody. Almost like he was pitying himself.  
Feeling sorry?_

_Remember Cabot Ridge? Let's go huntin._

_He had been thinking about so many things he had always wanted to tell the fucker, should he ever attempt to reach out for him again. But Merle had been in the slammer again, leaving him alone and miserable, doing nothing but getting drunk and starting barfights each day. If he thought about it he wasn't exactly any different than this drunk fat fuck now, so maybe it would make him kind of a hypocrite if he didn't say yes now._

_C'mon. Jess and Buck are coming, too._

_He knew what he was trying to say with that. I'm bringing assurance. They're there. I ain't gonna do shit. They'd see otherwise, wouldn't they? You like them, don't you? Do it for them at least. You owe 'em.  
_

_We gotta talk, son._

_He had agreed to come and go on that hunt. He knew it had been stupid and foolish and plain idiotic to agree to see his old man again after all the shit he'd been through because of him, after his mother's death. But all that had never changed anything about the fact that it was the way it had always been._

_He was_ _**family.** _ _  
Blood was more important than anything else._

_And it wasn't like he had much left, anyone else left with Merle gone._

_This trip had supposed to be different. It had supposed to be about family, maybe it had even supposed to be about finally talking about their troubled past. And now this. Now he was lying there, on the ground, bloody, while all hell was breaking loose. Lying there, reaching out for him, gargling, suffocating on his own blood, about to leave him again, neglecting, abandoning._

_"Do it" he heard Connor say, suddenly, and turned his head to the side. It didn't make any sense but somehow it did, the Irishman, being here with him, right by his side, just like he had always been ever since they had first met each other. Reminding him that he wasn't in fact alone at all._

_"End it"_

And just like that he was suddenly holding the gun, pointing it at his father's head, the man who was staring at him with wide eyes, still gargling, blood oozing out of his mouth.

 _Remember Cabot Ridge? We gotta talk, son. I wanna see yah._ _  
_ _Darleeeeena. Come on, where's Daddy's favorite little shit…_  
You're scared. You are, you weak piece of shit! What've I told you 'bout…

_"Do it" Connor said once more, louder this time, as the hunter finally did undo the safety of his gun, breathing louder, harsher, more labored and angry as hell._

_Some people are not meant to be forgiven. Some people deserve a fucking bullet to the head._

_His hand was shaking, first with anger because it all rushed over him, the hatred and disgust for this man who had neglected him all his life, beaten him, raped him, violated him in the most inhuman way, really thinking that he could just apologize for that by inviting him on a hunt, giving him a new rifle, a sixpack and a pat on the back, only to leave him yet again. But then the hand was shaking with fear and then with despair, because this was his_ _**Dad** _ _, lying there, in so much agony. No matter what he had done, no one deserved to die like a gutted animal, in so much pain, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pull it through._

_He still couldn't pull that trigger._

_It was then when he heard the prayer, saw Connor still standing right next to him with his own gun now out in the open and pointed at his father's head, the look on his face unforgiving, determined. And he was saying the that prayer, the one Daryl had heard many times now, and he was actually surprised when he didn't feel annoyed by it, didn't think of it as wrong, did nothing to stop this man from shooting his father. Quite the opposite. He admired Connor for being so emotionally stable and indifferent when it came to this, when he got all about the act itself, not the thoughts attached to it. For him, killing people was simply a job he was good at and nothing else._

_"Dar…darylee…" and when Daryl heard his father gargle those words, he lost any last remaining hints of regret, sorrow, obligation._

_Do it._

_No. Now, it felt right._

_Et Spiritus Sancti._

_BANG._

_He could see the bullet enter his father's head and this time he wasn't looking away, wasn't squeezing his eyes shut and pretending that it wasn't happening. No. This time, he was_ _**watching** _ _it happen. This time, he was closing the book on this chapter and finishing it for good. For someone who had just watched his own father get shot, he was surprisingly calm and collected. All of a sudden._

He was okay with it. Accepted it.

_Even worse, although he didn't even know if it was worse, he almost felt relieved. Like something heavy and dark was lifted off his chest. From then on, it was easy, really. Easy, and maybe a bit worrying if he thought too hard about it, but the dream was vivid and he couldn't stop it from unfolding anyway. In his dream they didn't just shoot his father. In his dream, he soon was actively engaging in the process along with Connor, his savior, his light at the end of an extremely long and dark tunnel that had once been his past._

_If we gonna go out there and look fer people, we might as well start looking fer evil bastards as well the way me 'n Murph did, **with you** , on the way, so we can do this fucked up shithole of a world a favor._

_In his dream, they shot many of these scumbag guys and people who hadn't exactly made his life any easier. People and neighbors who had willingly ignored the abuse on purpose, who had never opened the door and let him stay for the night when he had tried to run away from Will Dixon, doing quite the opposite. Calling him to tell where his stray puppy was, handing him right back because family was family. Family meant blood and blood was supposed to stick together, especially in a tight-knit, fucked up redneck community like the one he'd grown up in._

_They shot all those drug dealer scumbags who had nearly killed him and Merle more than once, who had made Merle addicted to this shit after all, who had turned him into this wreck after his days in the army, who had also tried to make him an addict white thrash scumbag as well, pulling him deeper and deeper into the family business, the family history, against his will. They crashed their parties with guns raised just like Daryl had always pictured Connor do it in his days back then, when he'd been that 'saint'._

_It was actually a bit frightening, how easy it was for him to just listen to Connor's constant nagging, how he just started to kill people, but for some reason it still felt right, and maybe it was because it was Connor who was right by his side at all times, almost like he was constantly radiating light, a bright light that guided him and was almost too painful to look at because of its harsh brightness, but it was there, still._

_In his dream he did no longer have scars on his back or torso. In his dream_ _**he** _ _was Murphy and Murphy did not exist. In his dream, Atlanta was mixing with Boston and Boston was mixing with Atlanta. In his dream, he was living through all the things Connor had told him about all the time. Irish pubs and booze and parties that weren't automatically connected with violence, drugs, prostitution and motorcycle gangs and fights, but with fun and laughter and joy and brotherhood instead.  
_

_In his dream the lines were blurring and faded from dark and bloody and scary to vivid and lively and healing. He felt good there, warm, at home, happy. And in his dream Connor was always there, right by his side, as best friend and savior, and the nights weren't filled with childhood fears and frequent abuse and rape but the exact opposite. In his dream he was accompanied by Connor during those nights, too. Loving him, fucking him or even more abstract, letting him fuck him, too, do it that much differently than what he'd been through with this bastard he had once called his father, his family. With Connor it was never frightening and traumatizing and painful. With Connor it was always wanted, needed appreciated._

_Anything he could get to forget about his father._

_And it was the exact absence of this guy, the finally having watched him get killed and dealt with_ _that made it okay, that made it right and almost calming and loving, like a dark veil had been lifted._

_And in his dream, right at the end of it, he finally managed to pull the trigger himself._

_His father was still lying all bloody on the floor, reaching out for him, trying to pull him back down with him just like he had always done, trying to keep hold of him, make the choices for him. But this time Daryl was comfortingly calm and collected, staring down at the man, almost indifferent to his pain and their connection, the weight of the gun trying to pull his hand further down, but he kept it right where it was, not letting it make him shake or shift. No. He was standing his ground. Firmly. Determined._

_Some people are not meant to be forgiven. Some people deserve a fucking bullet to the head to prevent an outcome that'd be even worse. Bullies and abusers, they never know when to stop. They're just gonna keep doing it._ _Bad guy, dead guy. Maybe we should just go out there kill all those motherfuckers._

_Do it._

_"Dar….Daa…."_

_He finally pulled the trigger, killing his own father, as an act of mercy, but also, as an act of revenge and justice after more than 20 years of abuse. He pulled the trigger, and ended this chapter of his life with a loud BANG._

Daryl opened his eyes and woke up with a little start, staring at the ceiling.

_**And I shall count thee among my favoured sheep. And you shall have the protection of all the angels in heaven.** _  
_**Oh Lord, raise me to Thy right hand and count me among Thy saints.** _

The room was drenched in a bright red and orange colour, painted by the rising sun outside. It was beautiful and still pleasantly cool in the living room, down here, because he'd tilted all the windows to get rid of the mouldered smell. Daryl yawned, rubbed his eyes a little and then cursed, because he hadn't meant to fall asleep.

He would be angry with Connor for not having awoken him to take over nightwatch shift, but right now, he was too calm and rested to really freak out again, give in to some aggression and rage that he didn't feel anymore anyway. It was really strange. He didn't quite get it, but the dream had been surprisingly calming despite the bloody and intense imagery. He actually remembered everything about it, remembered the strongest picture among all that, namely Connor, and although it made him smile for a moment, he soon couldn't help but bury his face in his palm. He then shook his head and wanted to punch himself for being so goddamned girly about it, and he quickly tried to dismiss it.

Of course he hadn't dreamt about freaking Connor being all bright and shiny.  
Of course he hadn't had a dream about fucking the guy for real, and that more than once.  
Only girls did that. He wasn't freaking like that.  
Pff.

He shook his head and then got off the couch, giving in to his early morning coughing fit, his lungs saying hello because of all his smoking. Daryl cleared his throat and then spat on the floor although he normally didn't do that, but right now he did it just to feel manly again. He froze a little when he saw the pictures on the wall, immediately feeling bad about it when he remembered that this house had used to be Hershel's home.

He sniffed and pressed his lips together, quickly stepping on the spit on the ground to smudge it with his foot, trying to make it go away because it had been too disrespectful.

"Ye wouldn't believe the shit I just saw!" Murphy suddenly shouted from upstairs, laughing as he came running down, startling Daryl once more. Good lord did he _**hate**_ how fucking noisy that stupid leprechaun part two could be. "There's a walker trying ta chase a fuckin cow just down the field, ye wouldn't believe how fuckin funny that shit.." Murphy went on but then both stopped talking and walking when he saw that he'd been talking to Daryl all along.

He had a quick look around the ground level from the high position he found himself in because he was still standing on the stairs, realizing that Connor, the one he'd been trying to talk to, was nowhere in sight. "Te fuck's Connor?" he asked, eying Daryl warily. The hunter looked away as he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, because the mention of his friend so soon after his dream made him feel slightly embarrassed, like Murphy was onto him, reading his mind, seeing what he'd dreamt about.

"Ain't seen him around. Thank god. I ain't in the mood for his talk. Just got up after all."

Murphy frowned a little, turning around to look back up the stairs. Connor had no longer been lying next to him when he had woken up, which had given him the impression that his brother had gotten up early again to hang out with his stupid favourite redneck. The fact that Daryl hadn't seen him either was a bit strange.

"You got a cig?" Daryl simply asked, snapping Murphy out of his wondering state. The younger MacManus brother searched the back of his jeans and then found the crushed and almost empty package there, looking at it for a moment, then looking at Daryl, pondering whether he should do it, but then he let out a little sigh and threw the pack at his lookalike.

"Just one" he warned and then made his way down the stairs, and Daryl took two just to piss him off. He put one in his mouth and stuck the other behind his ear, making Murphy narrow his eyes at him as he took the remaining cigarettes back.

But the younger MacManus was momentarily too focused on trying to find his brother so he could share his funny story about the cow . Daryl looked at him curiously as he lit his cigarette, blowing out some smoke the moment Murphy simply started walking again, without picking up a fight about the cigarette, without saying anything at all.

"Don't get yah panties in a bunch. Guy probably just went outside to take a piss" he muttered, trying to soothe him because the whole ruckus that he made so early in the morning already seemed to ruin his mood again. "Yah gonna watch him 'n hold his mitts there, too? Good lord, I thought the guy was kiddin" Daryl muttered and lazily followed his lookalike, only just now noticing that his crossbow was missing as well.

He came to a halt right next to the couch where he knew he had put his crossbow, leaned it against its side there, except that it was no longer there. Daryl frowned and looked up, scanning the living room but yep, the crossbow wasn't there. Murphy was still circling the house, opening doors and staring out of windows, until he finally started yelling his brother's name, at least until Daryl hushed him angrily.

"Keep your cheers down 'n take a good look at it" he growled and pointed at the spot where he had put his crossbow last night. "My crossbow's gone. So's your bro. And I fell asleep on the couch" he said, and when Murphy frowned a little Daryl just let out a snort and walked over to one of the windows, blowing smoke at thin air as he scanned the surrounding fields and treeline.

"Your bro probably woke up, saw me sleeping and took over watch shift. And the fucker used the opportunity to touch my shit while he was at it" he muttered and then even smirked a little, because he was pleased to know more about Connor than Murphy did. "Ain't exactly the first time the guy snuck out to do shit on his own. He did it before" he said, sighing a little when he remembered the last couple of times it had happened, very soon after the bite when Connor had first discovered that walkers no longer attacked him, or when they had stayed at the fire station and Connor had turned up with a freaking dog on their doorstep, or when he had snuck out with Merle back at the prison.

"Probably went out there to go cry in a corner or something" he muttered and tried to be all nonchalant about it when in reality, he worried a bit about Connor. Maybe even a lot. Because he also remembered those darker times when Connor had snuck out while he'd been asleep as well, last year, when he had tried to off himself right here.

Of course, he knew that he didn't have to fear nothing like that at all now because Connor was completely fine again. Well for the most part, except for the fact that he was beat to shit. But maybe he did feel a bit worried now, too. Because he knew that when the alarms went off inside either MacManus brother, they were usually right. He took another long drag on his cigarette and then dropped it on the ground to kill it, once again trying everything to look cool and manly enough. He then adjusted his pants, grabbed his knife to make sure it was there and then headed for the door.

"Let's go out there, I check the front, you the back, find the stupid leprechaun and get going. We gotta find some food today. Ain't nothing left. You got yah gun?"

"Aye."

"Clips?"

"What 'm I, fuckin five? Fuck you" Murphy said , surprised by the fact how Daryl seemed to want to make sure he was alright before they split up to go look for Connor. He couldn't see it because the hunter didn't bother looking back at him on his way out, but Daryl was actually smirking at that remark.

"'n brush yah teeth when yah get back home, princess. Ain't done it yesterday before bedtime" he kept teasing the younger MacManus, and although he couldn't see it either, Murphy was still giving him the middle finger.

* * *

Truth be told, he did get worried when he found out that Connor really was nowhere in sight. He got worried to a point where he even started calling out multiple times, a far less emotional and distant "leprechaun!" at first, but it soon turned into honest concern by the time he called him by his real name.

The more time he spent circling the farmhouse, the shed, the burned down barn and the group of trees just in front of the farmhouse, the more he freaked out, because it was like déjà vu. When he met up with Murphy occasionally only to learn that he had failed to find any trace of his brother Daryl was finally really fed up with it and went inside the old abandoned and stinking stables once again just to make sure,, coughing at the smell of decayed horse cadavers, paling and tensing the closer he got to the site where Connor had nearly managed to kill himself last year.

Of course he wasn't here.

Of course he was nowhere.

At first he was relieved of course, but then, for a short moment, Daryl even thought that maybe his mind had played tricks on him, that everything had been a dream altogether, that he had never managed to find Connor and Murphy a couple of days ago.

Fuck.

"Come on, man! This ain't funny! LEPRECHAUN!" he yelled, really angry this time, as he made his way back outside the stables.

It was then when Connor finally _, finally_ did turn up.  
Not exactly the way he had pictured it to be like, but he was still there.

Daryl was dangerously aware of how this seemed to become some sort of habit.  
Connor. Covered in blood splatters, looking slightly creepy, turning up, out of the blue.

He could see the Irishman exit the forest that was close by, sporting his crossbow that he had thrown over his shoulder, holding a bunch of rabbits and a squirrel.

He was actually carrying _game_.

What the fuck.

Daryl approached his friend, an angry and confused frown soon crossing his face. When Connor saw him he started grinning, all bright and white against his otherwise so bloody face, making it obvious that he wasn't hurt again and that it wasn't his blood. Connor moved his hand up to let out a gentle cough at first, but then he suddenly stopped walking, grabbed his hunt and then raised it in the air, swaying it a bit with a loud cheer.

"Wohoo, would ye fuckin look at that?! Who said I couldn't hunt'n track fer shit?!" he said and then grinned even more, walking again so he could get closer to Daryl. But the closer the hunter got, the more pissed he also got because Connor looked freaking _disgusting_ like that, with all the blood, and there was no real reasonable explanation as to why the Irishman would need to be covered in blood only to return with just a bunch of small animals.

It didn't make any sense.  
The animals certainly hadn't bled _that_ much.

"The hell you think you doin, huh?" the hunter asked angrily, scanning his friend head to toe. It was now more than obvious that the blood wasn't Connor's, but that didn't make it any better. "Running off like that, without leavin no goddamn note, no nothing, just days after…"

"Oh please" Connor said with an angry huff and then walked past his friend to approach the farmhouse where he could already see Murphy jog towards them.

"I already told ye yer not my fuckin mother. 'm fucking fine, alright? I couldn't sleep 'n got bored and was hungry so I decided ta just fuck it and go ahead. Ye looked real tired, so did Murph, so I figured…"

"Figured that you'd just…"

"EH MURPH!" Connor yelled across the field and completely ignored Daryl, deliberately avoiding their talk because he knew that Daryl was just going to keep bugging him with questions, questions he did not want to answer. He knew that his friend really wanted to ask him what all the blood was about, but it was a topic he did not want to talk about, not when he was on such a high right now, after his own little hunting trip, not when he was so happy to see that his twin was awake, not when he wanted to show him what _he_ had managed to get them for breakfast.

Because the truth was that he hadn't just gone out there to blow off some steam and give in to his slightly creepy and worrying thoughts. He'd also done it just to show them, show both Murphy and Daryl that he didn't need them to fuzz over him all the time now. Yeah, he knew that he looked like shit and had been through much shit. But if there was one thing he hated more than the pain and memories, then it was when people tried to pity him, when he was not in charge and not seen as the strongest and smartest and leader of them all.

Which had exactly been the reason why he had gone out there to go on a hunt. And he was actually surprised how much simpler it had been than he'd thought it to be. Maybe it wasn't really a surprise, considering the many times Daryl had tried to teach him and the countless times he had seen Daryl do it, but it was still a big winner for him.

"Look at that, brother!" he said and lifted the rabbits and squirrel up in the air once more, grinning all the way through when Murphy frowned.

"Nat fuckin squirrels again" was the first thing he said because he hated all the stuff he'd had to eat ever since there were no more supply stores and they had to rely on game and Daryl's hunting skills. Maybe it was an improvement compared to that one time two days ago when they'd had to eat a snake, but still. Just like Connor he missed fucking pizza. No matter how unlikely it was that he was ever going to eat it or even see it again.

But he soon started to frown, too, because now that he was closer, close enough for his impaired vision to let him see clearly enough, he was equally surprised by the way Connor looked with all the blood, and just like Daryl he immediately tried to ask him about it.

"What te fuck ha…"

"I'm gonna go get cleaned up, why don't ye and Daryl skin those and make a fire in the meantime?" he said and handed Daryl the game without looking at him though. He simply gave Murphy a smile, shutting him up before he got to ask, too.

"I get te right one though, 's the biggest. 'n I totally deserve tha one. Being the man of te house who brings food and all. Ha" he said and then patted Murphy's shoulder with a grin, knowing that this way, Murphy was definitely going to take it which he wanted him to do anyway.

"Be right back" he said then and started walking, heading for the farmhouse. Both Daryl and Murphy looked at each other, Murphy giving him his infamous confused "what the fuck?" face to which Daryl answered with an equally confused and angry frown and nod. The hunter then used the time to eye Connor's prey, inspecting the entry wounds. It looked kind of sloppy. Of course it did. No matter how much his friend tried to show off now, he still wasn't a hunter after all.

Murphy quickly turned his head to the side to watch Connor walk past him, seeing all the dark blood which had to be walker's blood. Without a doubt.

"Ye fuckin stink" he muttered, referring to the smell of said blood. Connor sniffed and wiped his face, chuckling a little.

"Aye, no shit. Why do ye think I wanna go get cleaned up. Now, go ahead, sweet lasses. 'm hungry. And don't be at each other's throat's again. Ye can thank me later" he said and then finally left, entering the farmhouse. Both Daryl and Murphy looked at the door a little while longer, until the younger MacManus finally turned around to look at Daryl, once again frowning.

"The fuck was tha about" he asked gently, looking back and forth between the farmhouse and Daryl. "Where the fuck was he?"

"I got no idea" Daryl muttered, eyeing the farmhouse just as curiously and worried.

"'n since when does he know how ta shoot yer thing" Murphy then added, which made Daryl roll his eyes. He grabbed the rabbits and the squirrel and shoved them to Murphy's chest instead.

"Here. Make yahself useful. 'm gonna go talk t'yah bro" he muttered and started walking, but Murphy immediately tried to hand him the game back.

"Fuck no, _you_ do that shit, 'm gonna talk t' _my_ brother."

"Yah don't know nothing 'bout how t'handle this kinda thing"Daryl just muttered and wouldn't take the game back, and somehow, he managed to get to the farmhouse without Murphy putting up a fight again or them yelling at each other in general.


	34. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter two for today. A fair warning: this chapter is actually rather slashy this time. I'm sorry if this sucks. Just like I said many times before, it's my first proper slash fic and I suck at porny writing so what the hell. But I still wanted to write this chapter because it is important, because it adds up to the relationship development so here we go.
> 
> The chapter title is totally inspired by the Deftones song cos I kept listening to it the whole time, lol singing:
> 
> I've watched you change.  
> Now you feel Alive  
> You Feel Alive  
> I've watched you change  
> It's like you never  
> Had wings

He didn't find him in the kitchen, and neither did he find him in the downstairs bathroom, however, he did find Connor in the upstairs bathroom. For just a moment he had managed to catch glimpse of the real Connor, the one without the faking anything or the putting up an act. He was just standing in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection, wincing when he moved, but other than that, looking almost creepy the way he was staring at himself, expressionless, lost in thoughts, face , neck, and arms still bloody. His entire torso was still covered with bruises and one or two cuts from the abduction. He was healing slowly and most of the time, Connor's stupid act as well as his clothes had covered most of that up.

But once again, this was one of those rare moments where his act was slipping because he thought nobody was watching him, this was one of those moments where the real Connor surfaced, the one that had been shaped by the outbreak, the infection as well as anything else that had happened to him. Sometimes, just sometimes, he could look _scary_ because of that.

Daryl opened the bathroom door a little more, making it creak and ultimately startling Connor, making him turn around. The hunter eyed his friend head to toe, his eyes lingering a little too long on his toned but abused body. Connor stared back at Daryl and then eventually gave him a knowing smirk, turning around so he could use the bucket of water to pour it into the sink so he could start getting rid of the blood.

Daryl folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching his friend with a wary frown. Before Connor got the chance to get started the hunter spoke up.

"Sure there ain't been no coughing kid who could've contaminated this puddle this time?"

Connor snorted and then grabbed the old wash cloth to drench it with water, only to raise his hand, look in the mirror and start cleaning his face.  
For a while he just concentrated on that, but very soon he was starting to look at Daryl more and more, through the mirror.

Daryl was either staring right back at him or staring at his friend's back, the tattoo and bruises there, the moving muscles under sun-tanned skin. Connor looked almost nothing like the way he had looked a year ago, when they had found him here. Back then he had been skinny, half starved to death and broken. Now, although still a bit lean and skinny from the lack of food, he was still way more muscular and tough. A man who took no shit, a man who didn't even really seem to care about the various beatings and bites he had received.

Connor eventually let out a sigh and dropped the cloth into the sink, staring at it, watching it go down in the dirty, cold water.

"Look, I know it was shite ta just run off like tha, but I just wanted ta do something nice fer ye and Murph. Ye did enough fer me during the past couple 'a days when I was sick, and I wanted ta return the favour. I really didn't expect it ta take me so long, thought I was gonna be back before ye even noticed I was gone."

"When did yah leave then?" Daryl asked with a frown, now even more surprised and angry because he hadn't noticed his friend walk right past him in the living room at all, that he had obviously fallen asleep way sooner than he'd thought, probably not even that long after their heated screwing around last night.

"Just before sunrise I think. Chilled a bit on te porch ta have a cig, and when I saw te sun come up, I got going. Call it the early morning shift or what fuckin ever, hell, I dunno" Connor muttered and grabbed the cloth again to get back to cleaning his face up.

"And that's why ya gotta get up and run around in the dark with no real backup. Leavin me and yah bro wondering where the hell y'are. Less than a week after a bunch of weirdos nearly managed t'kill yah."

"Well what else do ye expect me ta fuckin do if I can't sleep because of those fuckin weirdos fuckin me up so much I can't lie there without me fuckin bones crackin with each move."

Daryl really wanted to ask what the blood was about, why he had killed walkers when they were no threat to him, wanted to ask what the change in Connor's aura was about because he could just feel something _dark_ lingering there, something prickling and dangerous, but he decided to keep his mouth shut for now. First of all because he heard his friend say "I just went out there early ta get food fer us. End of story. Why do ye always have ta be so fucking pissy, man. It's annoying as shit", heard that he really _meant_ that annoyance, but also because he was just as tired of it. The incredibly fast ups and downs in their relationship, the head butting, the fighting.

He soon figured that they had more than enough time and quiet moments to talk about it later. So he kept it in and did something else instead, walk forward, grab his own red rag and then approached Connor with it. He spat in it to get the cloth wet and then raised it, approaching his friend's dirty, bloody skin. The Irishman was busy scrubbing his hands so he didn't see him coming. He startled rather harshly when the rag suddenly touched the side of his neck, moved against it.

Daryl pressed his lips together at the sight of that, knowing that reaction all too well, something which he certainly didn't like to see Connor do now, too. But he ignored it just like his friend had used to ignore it with him and went ahead, rubbing the piece of cloth against the side of Connor's neck, gently, patiently, slowly.

"Yah missed a spot" he just muttered, explaining himself. At first, he just looked at Connor's neck to watch the blood disappear under his rubbing, but soon he found himself looking at the mirror to stare right into the reflection of Connor's eyes.

He didn't know for how long exactly he did that. Taking care of his friend, for the first time actually really looking at all the bruises and marks those bastards had left on the blonde. Connor just kept standing there like that and watched Daryl in the mirror, once again having that _intense_ look on his face, that dangerous, inward brooding face like he was battling something, but the look soon seemed to change, seemed to get softer and more relaxed, more and more with each of Daryl's rubbing and stroking motions against his skin, as the hunter cleaned the rest of his shoulders and neck up.

"I found an abandoned little campside not too far fram here" Connor said, his eyes getting darker and darker in the reflection, just like his voice.

"Yeah?" Daryl asked quietly, sounding concentrated, but also, pretty much darker as well. He was slowly starting to get closer, his breathing getting more and more labored with each rub.

"Aye"

"You think it could be Rick'n the others?"

Connor shook his head.

Intense slim blue eyes met equally dark intense ones in the mirror.

"Nah. Had ta be a group 'a jerk guys. I found an old titty magazine inside tha rundown abandoned lil tent."

Daryl snorted, moving even closer. Connor's neck and shoulders and pretty much the entire rest of his body was long since clean by now, but he kept going, because it would be impossible to stop now, anyway.

"Yah keep it?"

Connor chuckled.

"Sure, figured you could need it. Considering ye loser'are never gonna see pussy up close" he said, giving in to a filthy little fit of laughter. Daryl pressed the cloth harder to his shoulder, digging into the skin there with his fingers, scratching it on response. Connor visibly tensed, his breath hitching a little bit as he moved forward, grabbing the sink with his both hands, the veins getting more and more pronounced as he grasped it tightly, held on to the porcelain.

"Walkers were all over te place, had ta be the reason why they left in a hurry. I took care of it" he said after a moment, explaining the blood, voice a bit higher and more strained this time. He did leave out the part about how much he had _enjoyed_ it, how he had gone out there looking for this kind of thing in the first place, how unnecessary it had been, how he had killed _all_ of them, relishing the killing spree, letting go of that anger and bloodlust he'd felt ever since he'd gotten out of Derek's group's claws.

He left that out, but Daryl could still see that _something_ in his eyes.

"Yeah?" the hunter breathed and finally gave in, unable to battle the lust now that he had seen that look, admitting that it was so no longer about the conversation anymore. He didn't even really feel guilty about the fact that he was hard already, because he could see that it was the same with Connor, judging from what he could see in the reflection in the mirror. He had seen him get more and more aroused pretty much with the scratch. Daryl was so close now that the Irishman could hear him breathe into his ear, all harsh and loud and hot and sticky.

"Aye" Connor said and finally turned around, looking at Daryl at first, then at his mouth, until he leaned forward and started kissing him. The hunter immediately growled and tried to make it all about speed and aggression, but much to his surprise he did let Connor slow him down this time, because the Irishman needed it.

They kissed multiple times and only slowly got more and more energetic, then it was Connor who first tried to open his friend's belt and pants. Daryl cocked his eyebrow a little, his face visibly saying 'Again?', although he had long since known that nothing else was going to happen anyway. They were both too much on edge to stop now, and it wasn't like the hunter could resist the sight of bare bruised skin anyway.

Connor chuckled a little when his friend suddenly got all enthusiastic about it and actually fully lowered his pants so he could step out of them, not just because the heat was killing him anyway, but because he was _that_ needy. Connor took care of himself in the meantime, getting rid of his own jeans he had wanted to clean up later anyway, maybe quickly adjusting and squeezing himself in the process, just to make sure.

He was just as surprised if he was honest. His entire body was still burning with pain because he had strained himself too much too early today, with the little sleep, the little food and the little resting time so soon after a flu infection and physical torture, but it was somehow exactly that that made him need it so badly, that near, that connection, that physical touch and grounding him in reality, because he already feared he could go insane otherwise. Maybe it was the still lasting adrenaline rush from his kill spree and the hunt, maybe it was the fact that Daryl had come so close to him and initiated something like that with him on his own for actually pretty much the first time, maybe it was because it had been more than two weeks of no real physical contanct before last night's session, it didn't matter, it was just happening.

Once they were done they immediately crashed back together, Daryl still a bit tense and reluctant and shy to touch but he did it, Connor just rather unthinking and straightforward once again, jerking each other off, touching, stroking, clinging and scratching until Daryl couldn't help but notice, couldn't help but remember. They were that much in tune now that he could just tell, just _knew_ that it wasn't as simple as he'd been told, that something about Connor seemed off.

"Yah went out there t'kill, asshole. That's why you ain't told nobody" he muttered, using this very moment because he knew it made it impossible for his friend to avoid answering. Connor's breath hitched until he just grunted once, thrusting into Daryl's hand, using his free hand to grab him by his neck and pull him closer.

"Shut te fuck up and keep going" he hissed, close to his ear, already getting closer to his orgasm. When Daryl tried to keep talking and even tried to deny him his close release to get an answer, Connor actually clawed at his neck and then pulled him into an angry short clacking kiss to shut him up, to which Daryl responded with an angry growl. The hunter immediately let go of his friend's best bits and grabbed the back of his neck.

"Ow yah fuckin asshole" he growled and shoved him a bit, which Connor copied. Then he immediately tried to get closer again so he could shove a leg between his friend's to make it about rutting and friction instead, not caring about anything but his release right now.

"Just..quit whining and keep fuckin going, geez."

However, Daryl was having none of it. The heated intense beginning of a quick post killing spree love making session was quickly turning into yet another one of their almost childish scuffles, until Daryl flat out used the opportunity to eventually get his friend to turn around and face the sink, dominating him, almost shoving it against it, the mirror there. For a moment they even stared right into each other's eyes, Connor could see Daryl's freakishly red and sweaty, exerted face, Daryl could see Connor's intense, dark and almost angry stare. The Irishman was already pissed again because his friend wasn't doing what he told him, wasn't listening, didn't see him as the man in charge. There certainly was violence, aggression and hatred in their eyes for just a split second, but it almost immediately got replaced by hunger, lust, and intense affection yet again.

Daryl had once again managed to dominate his friend, but only, because his friend had wanted him to, anyway. The hunter even looked surprised then, when he really realized that. Connor _wanted_ him to be in control. He knew what all this was about. Knew what had happened. Knew why he was being so vague about it. It worried him. He needed something to get back.

For a moment Daryl actually stared down on his friend. Saw how he was staring back at him through the mirror, saw him clutch at the porcelain sink, the skin of his fingers going pale from the pressure and making the ink of the tattooed Veritas strike even more against it. He saw each strong muscle in his arm flex and tense under the pressure, saw the scars of the two bite wounds strike against the lower arm, his shoulder. And his stare traveled from the scar on Connor's shoulder down his back, staring right in the face of crucified Jesus Christ. He understood the intense symbolism. Whether it had been intentional or not. He knew why Murphy had the feet on his back, knew why Connor had this on his back.

Jesus's torso.  
Most importantly.  
His _head._  
With the crown of thorns.  
His head, lowered, eyes closed, face looking troubled.  
Sad.

He was the troubled thinker. His thoughts constantly keeping him busy, sometimes paining him, like a crown of thorns.

But then his stare traveled even lower because Connor was still holding so still right in front of him, back turned on him, hovering above the sink. Daryl was standing right behind him. After the struggle, after _winning._ And Connor was just here waiting.

"Just fucking go ahead, Jesus fuckin Christ" Connor eventually growled, finally giving in, grabbing the sink even tighter and then lowering his head abruptly, with a little sigh.

"Wh..what?" Daryl asked, confused, but quickly moving forward again because now his own dick was reminding him with an terrible almost _hurting_ throbbing that he should seriously be fucking something now. So he did and went ahead, grasping Connor's shoulder at first to try and turn him around again, but when his friend wouldn't move, he quickly used this hand to move it around his hip to grab the Irishman's junk. He tried to use the other hand to jerk himself off behind him because something _needed_ to happen, but much to his surprise, Connor suddenly started wriggling his hips, as if he was trying to shake him off.

"Just fuck me already, ye retard" the Irishman said and then closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head because he couldn't believe that he'd just said that. Daryl seemed to think the same because he suddenly stilled completely, neither moving his hand on Connor's dick, nor on his own any longer. For a short moment, he actually just stared at the mirror, trying to make eye contact, trying to get any sort of confirmation that he'd really just heard _that_. But he couldn't get it because Connor now eagerly avoided any sort of eye contact and just started shifting impatiently.

"Are ye fuckin deaf? If ye keep standin there like that I'm gonna go ahead and fuckin come without ye. And no, don't even fuckin _start_ thinkin about tryin ta pump yer jizz all fuckin over me back there. I'm gonna fuckin kill ye if ye do."

"Wha…wait, _what_?" Daryl asked, frowning in disbelief, swallowing hard. The constant throbbing between his legs made it impossible for him to think clearly, or really stop any of this for too long to really talk about it. But he still couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

Connor let out a quiet but still audible long sigh. He was still grasping the sink rather tightly, staring at the dirty drain and porcelain. The more Daryl waited the more he found himself getting insecure, because the statement had been a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing. He totally understood why Daryl was so shocked and hesitant, why he wouldn't just go ahead and do it, give in to the more obvious needs.

It was fucking disgusting. It was scary. It was wrong. And most of all – it was un-fucking-natural.

But just like his friend he couldn't deny that he'd been thinking about it _a lot_ , ever since they had gotten started on the whole screwing around business.

There were many many reasons why he so shouldn't be doing this, but there were also quite a few reasons why he did. The first and most important one was the fact that he needed Daryl like _that_. Daryl was the only one to get him back on track when his stupid mind was slowly starting to drift. Murphy had been able to do this many times before the outbreak, ground him, keep him safe and sane, but this Murphy was gone, this Murphy now was the reason why it kept happening and drifting in the first place.

It wasn't like he didn't trust Murphy. It wasn't like he didn't believe their twin connection was still there. It wasn't like his relationship with Murphy wasn't deeper than with anybody else because it _was_. Just a little less close. But that one tiny part about him, that one 'psycho mode' as Murphy had used to call it many times back in the old days, after he had played his killer and pain-inflicting tricks on Checkov, George and so many other mobsters instead of just killing them, that one tiny part of him could no longer be controlled by himself or Murphy. No, that was one thing Daryl had become an expert at. On this farm. Whether he wanted to or not.

He needed this new thing, that final step to ground him. No matter how scary and foreign and wrong it was. And maybe he needed just that, because he knew that after having all these thoughts and after all the blood lust and killing sprees, maybe he needed someone to ground him with dominance and righteousness and fear. To be above him. To stop him from going through the roof with his megalomania. Murphy had once done it. Their mother had once done it, as well as their father. And now it was on Daryl.

Then there was the second, other important part.

He had finally given in and just said it because he fucking _loved_ the guy. Because he wanted to have sex with him to _show_ that love, that deep trust. They had always trusted each other with their lives anyway, but not like that yet, that most intimate way of trust. And he pitied him. Daryl had hardly ever had the real proper deal, probably never would now because the world was going to shit. And Connor was getting sick and tired of the dry humping and jerking each other off because he was not a very emotional man. It took so little time to make him get used to an emotion, a feeling, so little time to make him go numb and indifferent to it.

This was one of the many reasons why he'd never had any long lasting or deeply emotional and loving relationships with anyone but his brother, certainly not with women. He constantly needed new things to wrap his mind around, to keep feeling, to stay _there_. It wasn't like he'd been acting like a whore. It certainly wasn't like he was constantly craving sex with many different people in many different ways. The exact opposite actually. But still.

Even with all these thoughts and needs, the more Daryl hesitated, the more insecure he got, too.

Because there was the other part to it.

Homophobia, religion. Identity. Fear.

It was really fucking embarrassing to be standing here like that. To give in, to give up dominance and manliness no matter how much of a 'therapy' it was supposed to be. It took a LOT of effort to swallow his pride and be what had always been made fun of in prisons, outside prisons, everywhere.  
On the receiving end. As _a man_.

But it was what it was.  
Heat of the moment.  
A moment Daryl was slowly wasting with his waiting and staring.

"I said…"

"I don't even know how, man" Daryl said quickly and quietly, almost shyly. "Let's just…"

"I thought ye already fucked some chick,'s not that fucking different or hard. Geez, ye really are a fuckin virgin. Fuck."

"Fuck you" Daryl immediately snarled right back.

"Trust me, I fuckin will if ye don't, you pussy."

Maybe he was being a bit more of a dick about it right now, just because he was nervous and battling his own shame.

 _Do you even possess a pair of balls, brother? Are they even attached?_ _Why don't you kick off them high heels…_ Merle had kept mocking Daryl, which just made the hunter that much angrier. It was that and the never-ending throbbing and urge that finally made him stop staring and going blank, no matter how fucking scared he really was. But he'd been thinking about it so many times now, dreaming about it just a couple of hours ago, so much that it drowned out the screaming 'not gay' alert in his head.

Daryl did stare at Connor's back a little while longer, slowly shifting closer because his mind was quickly losing the war against the anticipation and lust. He certainly was shaking on his feet, he certainly was scared like a virgin before their first time, but it was Connor's never-ending angry impatient stare and Merle's mocking voice in his head that finally made him break that final barrier, stepping closer, actually clumsily and shakily adjusting himself.

"I get ta fuck ye next time, though" Connor quickly said and then looked down, closing his eyes, pressing his lips shut. _Holy fuck did he hate himself for pitching the idea_ , but he didn't want to seem like a pussy now, opting out or anything like that after making that big of a speech. "Yah wish" Daryl grunted and then finally tried to enter, slowly, clumsily, inexperienced and reluctant. And maybe he blushed a little because of that, and he thanked god that Connor wasn't freaking looking at him right now anyway, when he was acting like a freaking girl about it. No. He couldn't even see his face.

An awkward, shocked grunt escaped Connor's mouth and he stumbled forward a bit, grasping the sink even tighter because _fuck_ was that weird and _uncomfortable_ as fuck _Jesus fucking Christ_ , but he tried to stick to that little bit of pride and manliness he had left and said absolutely nothing, trying to endure, tensing up, shifting his weight more and more.

An equally loud and shocked grunt escaped Daryl's mouth a second later and he quickly tried to follow Connor's movement forward, desperate to keep the near, to get closer, to get deeper, but it was a whole lot harder than he could remember from his one quick and most of all equally awkward wam-bam time with waitress girl. He had a very hard time keeping himself from thrusting erratically because he didn't want to hurt his friend, and maybe it helped to know that it wouldn't be of much use anyway because everything was too tight, too hot, too dry. He let out another grunt another short moment later as he stumbled forward, reached around and barely managed to grasp the sink just above Connor's hand as well, holding on to it with shaky breath as he tried to pull himself closer and closer.

He dug his fingers of his other hand deeper and deeper into the side of Connor's hips, in perfect synchronization to Connor's fingers on the sink. For some reason he couldn't possibly shut his mouth anymore even if he wanted too, it was _that_ shocking and intense. He tried to apply some more pressure, with both his fingers and hip but it wouldn't quite work, thrusting did the same little effect. The only major effect it had was the fact that Connor tried to catch breath a little more, grunted a little louder, and it certainly didn't sound like he enjoyed it.

It was a sobering experience at best and painful at most. Although Daryl kept trying, kept thrusting and shifting and trying to soothe he soon felt more and more awkward about the fact that it didn't quite work. He felt more and more depressed in fact, wondering if it was his fault, why it didn't feel or work like in the movies and in all that talk, why it didn't work the way he'd dreamt it. He wondered if it was his fault his friend obviously wasn't enjoying it. Connor's and Merle's 'virgin' calling and all his self-doubt and panic had an incredibly numbing effect on his otherwise present euphoria and disbelief over the fact that he was actually _fucking_ Connor.

It was _real sex_ this time, and if this was really all there was to it, all awkward and dry and tense and hot and weird, then he supposed it was no real fucking surprise people felt so disgusted by same sex coupling. No wonder it was considered shameful and wrong.

It _felt_ fucking wrong. It didn't even work, how the fuck was this…

He startled a little when Connor suddenly reached back and grasped his wrist hard, squeezing it slowly, with a grunt that was getting more and more ragged with each slow and awkward steady thrust of Daryl's reluctant hips.

"Would ye..fuckin slick it up? Jesus fuckin Christ…" Connor grunted angrily, and right now he didn't even know who he was angry with. Daryl, because his inexperience was really annoying and cumbersome right now, or himself because he couldn't believe he'd really initiated this thing on his own when he _really_ wasn't even fucking gay. It was quite humiliating and almost painful for him and he seriously considered calling it a day, forgetting about it and never doing it again.

It certainly would have a more positive effect on his manly ego because this would be the epitome of "congratulations, you don't enjoy that, therefore you so cannot possibly gay! Bro fist, brother!" , but he knew that if he did this now, it would have a bad impact on his friend's self-esteem and trust instead.

Maybe he was freaking out. He figured it was pretty natural, considering the fact that he pictured all sorts of freaky things like a flaming stick was impaling him and all, stuff like that. But at the same time, he was getting needier and needier, his flesh an angry, wet mess with red blotches already, and maybe that neediness actually helped him to keep himself together and stop himself from calling this off. He wanted to keep going if only just for that, and when he heard Daryl spit in his hand and felt the wetness a moment later, it was actually really getting a bit better.

They both kind of lost track of time, how long it really took them to adjust to this new, strange situation, but when they did, it was actually quite surprising. They both let out yet another breathy and shaky shocked gasp when Daryl finally slid inside, no matter how slowly and dragging, but then they were there, hip to hip, sweaty, shaky.

Connor did stumble a bit yet again, frantically trying to hold on to something, the sink, although it was getting hard because his fingers kept slipping from all the sweat, trying hard to keep it together because it was quiet overwhelming now, and that not in a painful way anymore. He couldn't quite describe it but now that he was kind of getting used to it, maybe it wasn't too bad after all, he thought. It almost felt like those moments after an initial injury, a shot or stab or whatever. When the pain was slowly subsiding and his body was being flodded with natural painkillers, that sweet high and prickling bliss. A bliss that made him close his eyes, open his mouth and gasp once more, and maybe that was a shaky little moan.

But of course, he would never admit that, because moaning would mean that he would enjoy such gay gay gay faggoty gay activities, and fuck no did he not enjoy that. He was just helping a friend out.  
Just helping out.

Daryl, who was standing there right behind him and was downright clinging to him, pressing himself against him with his cheek pressed almost painfully tightly against his shoulder-blade as he desperately tried to adjust to the situation as well. Because it was really like that: Daryl was _overwhelmed_ with emotions right now. Lust, obviously, because everything was too tight and too hot and sweaty. Disbelief, because this was only the second time in his life, only the second time that he was really _sleeping_ with someone. This right here was no loser act anymore. No 'I'm fucking lonely and pathetic' wanking just to take the edge of. No 'I like you enough to jerk you off, but not enough to fuck you' fooling around. This right here, was the _proper deal_. And it wasn't about just fucking either. This was as intimate as it could ever get for him.

Holy fuck.

He knew it was pathetic, bit a tiny part of him even wanted to cry because it was so overwhelming and embarrassing and right and deep and everything at the same time. He couldn't believe that Connor was really doing that for him, couldn't believe that it was really happening, that he wasn't alone, that he could finally open himself up, that it wasn't scary or terrible anymore because the past was really dealt with.

In the end he did nothing but breathe mindlessly and heatedly for a while, adjusting to the tight embrace, waiting for Connor to adjust, and when he did, he finally could no longer hold back but started thrusting instead. Because then he was no longer being pathetic or emotional about it anymore, because then his primitive sex drive kicked right in.

He tried really hard to keep it slow and careful at first, but it didn't exactly take him long and his mind just started slipping, like the more animalistic part of his brain was kicking right into action. He was so close he could actually feel it build up low in his stomach, an emotion that made him thrust more energetically by default. Connor's breath immediately started hitching again and he grasped the sink tighter, and maybe it was a good thing, because it did slow Daryl down and kept him from coming too early, something he seriously didn't want to, not so soon, not so shortly after having just started this new and incredibly intimate, intense thing. When Connor shifted his weight again and let out a breathy short moan and a whole string of curses Daryl used the opportunity to follow his movement, leaned forward even more and then actually reached around his friend with both arms so he could place both his hands on the sink as well, to grab it and use it as leverage to support his thrusting, make it more steady and maybe a bit more abrupt and energetic.

He didn't know if it was just the force or Connor getting used to and adjusting to it, but the more he did it, the easier it actually got to thrust, the slapping of sweaty flesh against flesh getting more and more pronounced in the process. Connor was actually very surprised himself when he eventually fell apart to that, giving up any sort of resistance and restraint. He'd been doing that at first to protect his own manliness, to not let his body betray and admit that he enjoyed it, something he'd made fun of with other friends for god knows how long, but simply _because_ he _was_ a man, resisting his sex drive eventually became impossible. Even for otherwise rather sexually indifferent him. He eventually fully engaged in each thrust as well, let himself respond accordingly.

He could hear his heart pound in his ears about twice as fast as Daryl's pounding behind him, the blood seemingly continuously getting pumped out of his brain and flowing all the way down between his legs to support the throbbing there, eager to drive him insane with it. Every now and then, if just randomly and too short to really understand it, Daryl did hit a spot inside of him that send another hot flash of pleasure to his groin, a spot he'd never even known existed there.

The truth was that he didn't really know much about the physicality of sex and didn't really want to, certainly not _this_ kind of sex, so he just acknowledged it a bit, its existence and emotions connected to it. He stared either at the sink below him or at Daryl's sweaty and dirty hands that were clutching to its sides just above his own hand there, and when the hunter did find that right angle again, opposite the slightly painful one, he suddenly gasped yet again and reached further up to grasp Daryl's wrist, so he could grab his hand there and yank it away from the sink, guiding it between his legs again _because the fucker better did that shit if he had to go through this for him_.

Daryl was already pretty much a lost cause, his brain momentarily switched off because nothing else but getting there mattered, so he didn't exactly put up a fight when his hand was pressed to his friend's groin, but he wasn't doing a very job at helping him get there, either, and maybe that frustrated Connor a bit. His rubbing and twisting his hand around Connor's dick was happening far too sporadically and completely out of rhythm, so unsatisfying that Connor eventually wrapped his hand around his to help him, but pretty soon that didn't matter anymore because then Daryl's erratic thrusting really sped up and got harsher until he suddenly started shaking and clinging, and came with a shaky deep groan, pressing Connor so hard against the sink that the Irishman was pretty sure that there were going to be yet another bunch of bruises he could add to the ever expanding list.

But then Daryl's thrusting eventually slowed down, got less steady and softer, as he visibly and noticibly relaxed behind Connor, until he finally ended up being nothing but a shaking and sweating sated heap of flesh that was leaning against his back, actually hugging him with a little shaky sigh as he tried to calm down.

Connor eventually sped their hands on him up as well and Daryl let him, he was too out of it from the initial shock and pleasure of it all to really complain. Connor did let out a little frustrated grunt _because he wasn't fucking quite there yet,_ _ **fuck**_ _but_ …. He raised his head a little and let out a small growl when Daryl suddenly and finally, fucking _finally_ got back to quickly and almost roughly jerking him off. Kissing and biting at Connor's neck because he knew it helped him. He even used his other arm to wrap it around his waist to properly pull him up in a standing position to make it easier for them, making the Irishman struggle and tense and wriggle a bit just to turn it into a little scuffle, with Daryl still inside of him making it rather uncomfortable, although he was already half slipping outside again because there was no more hardness keeping it steady.

Connor also struggled because he didn't exactly fancy looking at them in the mirror, when the both of them were in such a mindless, careless state, but when Daryl simply kept him locked in that position and kept going, he did the only other thing he could, close his eyes, drift off, and maybe he did imagine some porny shit just to finally get over the edge as well.

And it was that thought and the struggle and movement that finally made Connor come, too, with a muffled shout, into the sink, then it was quiet again.

Quiet and that much slower.  
Sweeter.

Halle-fuckin-luja.

Connor actually wanted to cheer when his friend finally pulled out, a sensation that sent another hot flash through his limbs altogether. Yeah, maybe it was pretty intimate and special and he fucking _liked it_ , fuck you very much.

Then there was nothing but their labored breathing. Connor immediately stumbled forward a bit, rubbing his face, trying to get himself together again.

And how fucking great was that.  
Walking freaking _hurt_.

He decided to hate Daryl for a moment, angrily pulling some spit back, clearing his throat, spitting into the sink only to pull the plug and wash the evidence away. Daryl seemed to equally need his space after it, seemed to need just as much time really wrap his head around what they'd just done. Even with all that, he couldn't deny the prickling that was there in his limbs, just like it was there in his friend's.

Connor quickly used the rest of the water to wash himself yet _again_ , killing some time to keep his back on Daryl who was quietly wiping himself off with an old towel behind him, and who then got dressed.

 _He hadn't meant for it to escalate like that_ , the hunter thought as he quietly put his jeans back on, buttoned his dirty old sweaty shirt back up, losing himself in his mind a bit. Just like Connor he tried to steal a glance at his friend ever so often, wondering what this meant, if it had been wrong or not. He felt weird. Of course he did. He'd never gone that far with a friend, certainly had never done anything like that at all, with a man, losing himself like that, screwing everything and just going ahead. He'd thought and dreamed about it many times but he'd never actually really thought about pulling it through, but now it had happened. Spiralled out of control. He felt weird, he felt different, and yet he couldn't deny the fact that it…almost felt natural? Not too surprising at all?

He wiped his face, grimacing a bit because he had Connor's scent practically all over him.

Fuck fuck fuck.  
He'd just come up here to talk to him. As a friend. A worried friend.  
And here they were.

He watched Connor get dressed, saw the equally lost and thoughtful look on his face. Well, at least the darkness and strangeness was gone. But he did wonder if this was his friend trying to pretend that nothing had happened.

"We should probably go..Murph's gonna wonder what te fuck's takin us so long" Connor eventually muttered, having noticed his stare in the mirror but then quickly looking down again. Daryl pressed his lips together, swallowing hard, wondering whether he had hurt his friend, both physically and mentally, because this had been quite a fucked up thing to do.

Fuck. He had practically dominated him. Pretty much forced him to be on the receiving end.

He knew what that felt like. All to well. It was humiliating. Had to be, for every freaking man. It wasn't supposed to….

"Hey….I didn't mean t…." he eventually and quickly muttered, panic rushing over him, at loss at words, but really certain about one thing. He _was_ sorry. He didn't want to screw up even more for Connor. Or between them. It had just….happened. It really hadn't even been about his past or dominance or strength or anger. It had just…happened. And now he did wonder if this had been about his past. Fuck, it felt like he was turning into a mirror image of his fat bastard father.

Connor turned his head at the mention of those words, now fully dressed again, just looking at Daryl, the expression on his face now unreadable. Then he suddenly smirked. And then chuckled.

"What. Didn't mean ta let me pop yer cherry?" he said, approaching Daryl like that, chuckling. Grinning.

Teasing.

He walked and walked until he was standing right in front of him, looking at Daryl for a moment, his friend who was now scowling at him because of the comment. Then Connor quickly leaned in and stole a hard, short kiss that was more of the teasing than the loving kind, to stop Daryl from saying something right there. He even gently but also affectionately patted his chest a couple of times. "It's alright, man" he said quietly and tenderly, almost too quiet for Daryl to hear. Then Connor grinned again, rose all the walls and put up the act for the happy completely fine Connor show.

"Enjoy it while 't lasts, brother, cos _I_ get ta fuck _you_ next time, _honeybunch_ " he said, louder this time, quickly stealing another forcing kiss that was nowhere meant to be true or loving or even real, then he walked past Daryl with another chuckle.

Part of him actually just did the whole act to hide the fact that he was hurting a bit and that his pride was slightly hurt after the deed, but he also did it because a) he wanted to make Daryl feel more comfortable and secure after the awkward silence and b) well, he happened to have enjoyed it a little bit. Just a tiny bit. It had made him a little bit more optimistic and happy after his early morning freakout.

Just a little bit.  
And no. Not the gay sex part. Just the jerking off at the end. Just that.  
Thinking about porn and chicks and tittie magazines like the one he'd seen in the tent.  
Yep.

"Hey, there ain't been no poppin some cherry business" Daryl immediately said as soon as he had recovered from the dumbfounding sudden kisses, angrily wiping his mouth as he followed Connor.

"Say goodbyeeeeeee to the Virgin Isslaaaaaands…." Connor started signing instead of answering as they entered the corridor, the hunter getting angrier by the second, whereas Connor started laughing more and more, with each made up line of his song.

"I said I ain't…"

"They're wavin goodbyeeeeee fram the Islands of shaaaaame…"

"If you don't stop your damn singing 'm gonna…"

"The petals are goooooooneee fram this little floweeeerrrrr…."

"Leprechaun! I swear t'fucking god, I'm warning yah"

"They're waving goodbyeeeeeee fer he's been claiiiiimed…"

Murphy, who had entered the farmhouse just now, frowned a little when he heard the noise from upstairs, his brother's singing and Daryl's angry shouting for him to stop. He wanted to walk up the stairs and call out but then stopped to just listen because Connor suddenly stopped singing and started yelling back instead.

"Ow ye fuckin asshole, no need ta fuckin half push me down the stairs, can't ye ever take a fuckin joke with that fuckin stick up yer arse! What are ye, fuckin crazy?!"

"I told yah t'shut up with yah fuckin singing, your own goddamned fault if yah gotta be so freakin annoyin all the time."

"Well someone's gotta be te fuckin comic relief with all yer sour yappin outta yer ass of a face! Oh right, I forgot, they forgot ta fuckin teach ' _sense of humor, lesson one'_ at hillbilly school."

"Sure as hell forgot t'teach ' _when t'shut the hell up, common sense_ ' on mick islands, too you dumbass."

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck **you** , asshole."

Murphy grinned a little. So much about Daryl and his _knowing 'bout how t'handle this kinda thing_. Sure didn't look like he'd been able to get anything out of Connor at all.

Bwaha.  
Connor was right.

Fucking hillbilly.

When he heard how Connor and Daryl's little argument continued all the way down the stairs he finally decided to fully enter the farmhouse, so he could walk to Connor and show Daryl how to handle the situation the proper way instead.


	35. Brooks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and here I am with a new chapter. It might be bit boring because there isn't too much action or slashing going on and it's more of a filler, but it needs to be told so here it is. Subtle Connaryl-ing, some Darphy secret bromancing, a little future something for Murph, and further Connor question-marking. It's also all build up for some sweet Connaryl in the next chapter as well and I'm looking forward to that, so here we go.

**A couple of days later**

Murphy just sat and stared, nose wrinkled, frowning, watching Daryl gnaw at the meat. The two men were sitting across from each other around the little campfire they had made in order to cook their food, although one couldn't really call it food anyway. He'd felt like throwing up for a couple of days now, simply because he was so hungry, but now that feeling was only getting amplified by the way Daryl was eating his small ration. Murphy just wrinkled his nose even more, feeling disgusted.

Daryl was smacking his lips with each bite and chew, his face was a complete mess, all oily and dirty from the meat, with a couple of half-chewed bits sticking between his teeth, hanging from his beard. It certainly was a very unflattering image, but for some reason, Murphy couldn't help but stare, watch.

And Daryl kept gobbling it down.

Murphy eventually turned his head a little to eye Connor curiously, wondering how the _fuck_ his twin had managed to grow to like the guy so much that he was actually willing to freaking _kiss_ him, hug him, love him or whatever.

 _Yikes_.

Connor didn't seem to care about his friend's manners though, in fact, he wasn't even paying attention to him because he was busy figuring shit out again, with his map and scribblings and all the stuff he wrote down ever since they had lost Woodbury. "I'd say we should go further south-west" Connor eventually said, leaning forward a bit and then raising his head to look at both Daryl and Murphy. "We've covered Atlanta, Peachtree, Sharpsburg, Griffin and Greenville. Maybe we should check out the area around Macon. I mean ye've already been ta Fort Valley and found lotsa useful stuff. Maybe there's more supplies down there."

Daryl was looking at Connor, but kept eating. Murphy rubbed his mouth and chin a little as he tried to read what was on the map, although it was hard both because of his troubles with reading and the fact that his sight wasn't exactly best. But he still tried it, frowning.

"Why does it have ta be south? Why does it even have ta be Georgia? Maybe we should just go double back up North. Maybe we should check out Canada. Less dense population, more forest and 's colder. Cold slows walkers down, and most looter fucks don' bother goin up there cos they don't wanna freeze their asses off…"

"We ain't going north cos our people are 'round _here_ , emo kid. And we're _gonna find them_ " Daryl growled and stared at Murphy, who narrowed his eyes right back at him. "We can't exactly travel cross half the continent these days, Murph. Don't be ridiculous. We gotta stay smart and realistic 'bout everything. Safe our strength and resources. Maybe we should…" Connor joined in.

"We did it before, didn' we? We travelled all the way down here from Massachusetts. You did and I did and here we are" Murphy immediately argued, but Connor huffed and waved it off.

"That was during the early days of the outbreak when we still had enough cars 'n fuel. 'n now look at it. 's all going downhill. And even if we do find a car, I'd not exactly waste it on maybe a week's worth of driving. And we're not going ta freakin Canada when winter's so close by. We gotta stop wasting our resources now or we're gonna fuckin starve ta death. "

As if to stress this, a loud grumbling noise emerged from Connor's stomach, reminding them exactly why not being smart about anything could get them killed way sooner than they wanted. Daryl chewed a little slower and looked at his friend, swallowing. He then quickly looked down at the small remnants that were left of the snake meat he'd been eating, chewing even slower, until he handed it over with his one hand while he used the other to clean it on his dirty jeans.

"Here. 'm full anyways" he lied, but Connor shook his head angrily and waved that off as well.

"Ye didn't get anything the last two days, so fuck it. Ye know the fuckin rules about taking turns…" Connor growled, rubbing his belly a little as he continued to study his map. Daryl tried to get rid of a piece of meat that was stuck between his teeth by using his tongue as leverage, still watching Connor cautiously, a bit worried. He then frowned and took the rest of the meat back to eat it, because it was well true that he hadn't had anything in two days and was just as hungry.

It was still rather early in the morning so he really hoped he could catch something more than just a snake today, or find at least _something_ so Connor didn't have to go hungry for too long. They had set up that silent rule of taking turns eating, and evened each other out fairly well with their little protective habits. What Connor refused to eat to keep Murphy well fed he did get from Daryl because he didn't want to see his friend hungry, and what Daryl lacked he actually got back from Murphy because he was all about evenly split meals and sharing. But even with that kind of system they couldn't exactly deny the fact that it wouldn't keep working for too long if they didn't come up with a proper plan or proper destination or new home soon.

"Maybe we should stop relying on redneck Joe's huntin skills then and get outta the woods and check out te towns again. They can't just all be wiped clean. It can't be that hard ta find a fuckin can of peaches or shit like that" Murphy muttered, turning his head a little to let his gaze wander across the surrounding woods.

"Brooks is nat too far, actually" Connor muttered, scratching his chin a little as well. "I mean, if we are where I think we are."

Daryl threw the bones of his meal into the fire and shifted, so he could move over to Connor and grab his map to yank it out of his hand.  
He turned it around twice and then licked his dirty fingers, trying to get rid of the rest of his food, and then pointed at the map.

"Hmhm. We're 'round here somewhere. But we've already been close t'Brooks during one of our supply runs."

Connor leaned in a little, moving closer to Daryl as well, enjoying his near and warmth. It was a subtle move really, but Murphy saw it right away and rolled his eyes a little, shaking his head, looking down to grab a stick and start fumbling with the bone Daryl had thrown into the fire.

"Did ye check it out then?" Connor asked, looking at the map.

"Nah, we wanted to, but never got the chance."

"Well, looks like this might be worth a shot then. Murph's right. Ye always find something. There's so many towns and villages and farmhouses around here, they just _can't_ all be wiped clean."

He gave Daryl a quick side glance, trying to smirk a bit although he was tired, hungry and cold. Daryl looked back at him, the both of them thinking the same – that they really wanted to share some calm early morning intimacy, but since Murphy was sitting right opposite them they of course decided to not do anything like that at all. Connor bit his lip instead and looked back at the map.

"Maybe Rick'n the others thought the same" he said to Daryl, to stay on topic, although he had stopped believing in it days ago. If he was honest the whole 'trying to find the others' task was getting rather tiresome to him, no matter how cruel it sounded, looking for decent shelter and food was actually way more important to him right now. But he didn't want to say that out loud because he could see and feel the change in Daryl, the one that had been there ever since they had found each other.

He knew that the sheer impossibility of finding each other again although he'd been captured and injured had had a major impact on Daryl's optimism, like he'd finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel and just _wanted_ to do something good. As if a tiny part inside of him was still about Sophia and trying to set that right now, by finding the others. Daryl seemed calmer, gentler, and happier now, the optimism keeping him right on track. Connor didn't want to destroy that now, so just like Daryl was constantly trying to do him good by giving him food, he was now constantly trying to do him good by letting him keep that optimism.

Daryl let out a little sigh and shrugged, maybe a bit pissed about the fact that he couldn't be intimate and loving with Connor because Murphy was there , although he really liked the kid by now.

"All right, whatever. But if we don't find shit by noon, 'm gonna head back into the woods and try to shoot us something bigger this time" he just said and moved away again. He got up to get his stuff ready, and Murphy copied his actions by getting up and grabbing his own things as well.

Connor let out a little sigh as well and stared at the campfire that Murphy was trying to kill by putting dirt on it, quickly getting lost in worrying thoughts again. He was really starting to wonder if this was all there was to it now. Camping, leaving, looking for food each day, feeling hungrier each day. That, and feeling colder, too, because fall was coming with the nights getting colder and more uncomfortable.

He remembered that he'd been all about his trigger happy killing madness with his big speech about normal white-picket fence life not being right for them just a couple of days ago. How they were supposed to be out here and survive and kill walkers and bad guys each day because it was so much realer. But now that they actually _were_ out here for a couple of days, he was certainly starting to freaking miss Woodbury, the warm, comfortable beds and large stock of food and Rick's stupid gardening.

His stomach growled once more just thinking about that.

Connor shook his head angrily and got up as well to help his friend and brother, once again wincing at the stabbing pain he felt in his torso and lungs because even now, all his bruises and cuts from the kidnapping and the flu were healing awfully slowly.

* * *

It was really freaking _nice_ to see that this small town was pretty much abandoned. Just like any other town that hadn't been occupied in months maybe even for more than a year, the undead had left the settlement ages ago. Driven out by the lack of food, into the woods or good knows where, because just like living people they still felt the constant subconscious urge to move, to change their location, to go look for food if it wasn't to be found here. It was nice because it meant less fighting the undead, more saving their energy they really needed now because of the lack of food.

Maybe it was creepy, just like always, because well, the town happened to be another ghost town, but they were actually getting more and more used to that. The silence. The decay. The howling of the wind inside empty houses and stores. Connor even wondered if he'd ever really be able to remember their old life again, what the lively streets of Boston had looked like, felt like, with living people all around them, the noise of busy streets and car horns and jumbo jets and street music.

There was an echo inside his head, but it was just that, an old echo, ringing in the back of his mind, sounding feeling and looking like it was just part of a movie, not the real world. No. He couldn't _really_ remember it anymore.

They walked down main street but on the sidewalk, close to the buildings, so they weren't exactly that much in plain sight because walkers were the least of their problems right now. Part of Connor even kind of wanted some looters or gang bastards to try and shoot them up, start a fight, just so it wasn't so freaking boring and depressing. Killing would certainly take the edge of, maybe they could even get some new ammo this way, because they'd run out of that pretty much two days after the Woodbury incident, unable to find any new clips.

This was another reason why it was so hard to hunt, all they had was Daryl's crossbow with his handmade arrows because he had lost his proper sports arrows as well, lost them to walkers or animals because of them breaking in two. And his handmade arrows were, although good and impressive, still not exactly perfect, causing Daryl to miss occasionally, missing possible food. So they didn't just need some food, they also needed some decent hunting goods, maybe some new weapons, like a rifle or god knows what, things looters and bad guys usually had with them.

Connor's stomach growled once again, sounding dangerously loud, almost like it could echo throughout the entire abandoned town.

An old newspaper was flying across main street, rattling in the wind, other than that, there was nothing. Daryl had slowed down to shoot his friend a warning glare, although he knew it wasn't even like Connor had done it on purpose. He then quickly got back to his scanning the surrounding small houses and shops like a hawk, looking for any sort of movement.

Murphy was lazily following them, and although he was on the lookout as well, he was already getting impatient. Both Daryl and Connor wanted to walk down main street in its entirety at first before checking out any of the buildings, to make sure there were no surprises before they got to looting, but Murphy already started checking out the display windows anyway.

Most of the stores had been looted of course, with their furniture scattered across the floor, with glass splinters and trash everywhere. Most of the good stuff had been taken and the interiors looked pretty much empty, which frustrated the younger MacManus even more, but he still kept looking, still kept searching, his stomach clenching once again.

"I feel like some guy in Once upon a time in the west, man" Connor said after a while, when they had almost reached the end of main street and it looked more and more like they were indeed alone in this ghost town. "Only thing missing is some loose hay bale and a buncha horses…"he said and then started humming the famous theme tune, making Daryl roll his eyes a bit, but then the hunter soon started smirking. He loved to hate his friend's stupid movie geekiness.

"Shame ye lost te poncho I gave ye. If we do find Rick'n the others again, we gotta steal his Python and Carl's hat and do some serious Western-ing 'round here.  
And I so get ta be Charlie Bronson. Ye get ta be te chick, Darylena."

"Fuck you."

Daryl really wanted to say something that would hit home way below his friend's belt, how he truly wondered _who_ the chick was in their relationship and when they were fucking, but decided not to do that, only smirking to himself instead. Murphy snorted behind them, and for a moment Daryl thought he'd read his mind, but Murphy was actually talking to Connor.

"Ye've lost it now, haven'tche."

"'m just saying. Maybe we should go further south instead. Texas, baby. Some of those motherfuckers must've survived this craziness, right?  
All wild wild west and guns."

Daryl snorted as well.

"Right, 'n why not plan a trip to freakin Disneyland while yah at it, leprechaun. Focus."

Connor chuckled a little, as he tried to picture a zombified Mickey mouse and Disney princess.

"Maybe. 'm pretty sure ye'd make a pretty princess down…"

A loud scream suddenly startled all three of them, making them turn around, grabbing their weapons tighter.

"NO…NO NO DON'T TOUCH HER YOU….OW! AHH LET ME GO YOU…."

There was the crashing of glass and other furniture, and the screams were undoubtedly coming from a woman.

"NOO! LET ME GO! DON'T YOU DARE…"

Before anyone could even really register what was going on, Murphy suddenly started running, crossing a lawn, running towards the house the screaming was coming from. Connor eyes widened in surprise and horror. "MURPH! ARE YE…." he whisper-shouted, not willing to let whoever was screaming and fighting know that they were here as well, but desperate to get his twin to stop running away from them. Connor immediately ran after him, getting closer and closer to the house and screaming that was getting louder and more bone-chilling by the second. Even worse.

There was a child crying along with her now.

 _Fuck fuck fuck.  
_  
And Murphy, his stupid _whirlwind_ of a brother was running right at the house, storming inside. Fair enough, that's what they'd been doing back in the old days. Take attackers by surprise by storming right inside and crashing their parties. But this right here, this was nothing like that anymore. Not when they were just three people, not when they didn't know the house's layout or how many people were in there.

Even worse, Connor already thought about the worst case scenario, that this was a trap, that this were people trying to lure them inside to ambush them, but it wasn't like he could do much to stop it anyway, because he was too close to the house now to really speak up, because this would most certainly give away their location. So he tried to run as fast as possible, trying to catch up with his twin to tackle him down and stop him from going in there and possibly run right into an ambush or an attacker with a gun, but no matter how fast he ran, Murphy was faster.

It was almost freaky how fast his sibling really could sprint, like he'd been working out and practicing a whole lot more than what he'd done before the apocalypse. It also didn't exactly help that Connor was aching from just this little run, because of his bruises and flu recovery, but he kept going, running and running, even when Murphy was already inside the house.

The loud screaming from both the woman and the child as well as the fighting noises, the falling of furniture and other things, was getting more and more violent. It seemed to come from the living room or whatever kind of room it was, and when Connor finally did storm inside the house and found himself inside the hallway he could already see his sibling standing there in a door, the sunlight from the room he was looking at illuminating his serious, deadly face.

Murphy had drawn the bowie knife he'd gotten from Daryl, holding it ready to throw, threatening whoever was inside the room, whoever was trying to do something to the screaming woman and her child. For just a moment Murphy's eyes widened and panic rushed over Connor, his crazed and fearful mind already playing tricks on him. He imagined the attacker standing there with a gun that was now pointed at his sibling, which had caused Murphy to widen his eyes like that.

Connor immediately scanned the hallway in horror, his mind actually running, adrenaline pumping through his veins, making him work out everything faster, almost subconsciously. He saw the other door around the corner. A door that just had to lead to the same room, right next to the stairs there. He tried to be as quiet but fast as possible, grabbing his thick stick he'd taken from their campsite inside the woods, his improvised weapon until he found a decent one. He had one last scared and furious look at Murphy who was just standing there in the door, staring at the attacker with deadly eyes.

"Drop te fuckin knife and let her go" the younger MacManus snarled, trying to engage the attacker in a conversation, not even realizing that his brother was trying to reach out for him in his mind, trying to tell him to cut the shit out and not put himself in the line of fire. Murphy didn't do anything but stand his ground, trying to help this stranger woman they'd heard screaming for help. Connor grabbed his stick tighter and tiptoed over to the other door, as fast as possible, grasping the stick tighter and tighter to a point where he feared he was going to break it before he even got to use it.

The guy who was obviously holding the woman hostage began talking to Murphy, sounding like an old confused man with bad teeth, judging from the sound of his words.

"You….you got nothing t'do with this son" the man said, chuckling between the words. "Just hand over everything you got missy, now now, where is it, huh? I want er'ything."

"LET ME GO! I don't even know what you're talking about, we don't have anything we could give you!" the woman shouted, and when Connor finally did round the corner, he was almost relieved to see that there was indeed just on old man standing behind the young woman, holding her in a headlock, knife pressed to her throat. He looked dirty and certainly smelled it, almost like he was and always had been some sort of hobo. There was a small girl sitting in the corner crying her lungs out as she watched the scenario unfold, too young to really understand it, but terrified still. The man was completely caught up trying to keep the woman in place and talking to Murphy, who did see Connor turn up behind the man, but would not let his gaze betray him. Murphy just kept standing his ground and kept talking to the man, trying anything to keep his eyes fixed on him.

"Just let te fuckin woman go ye old bastard, she's got a kid fer fuck's sake!" he shouted, slowly trying to get closer to the man who immediately took a few steps back, yanking the woman along with him, getting closer to Connor who was approaching him from behind. The woman just started screaming and fighting even more, kicking and trying to punch, taking up all the strength and concentration the man needed to keep her in place.

He didn't see or even hear Connor sneak up behind him, with a deadly expression on his face, stick in the air, ready to strike.

"This place's been my town the whole winter…so…so everything you bring here belongs..belongs to me…tehe..and I say…"

An incredibly hard blow to his head interrupted him mid sentence, making it impossible for him to keep going. The old man didn't even get a chance to react or do anything because then Connor hit his head for a second time, even harder this time, a deadly almost scary murderous look on his face. The wood connected very hard with the back of the man's head, making both the bone and the stick crack a bit. The man let out just a short abrupt loud grunt, then his head was thrown forward again, making him release the woman almost immediately, with the old man tumbling to the ground. The woman let out another little terrified scream and stumbled forward, feeling a spray of blood rain down on the back of her leg and shoe when Connor hit the man again.

For a moment she turned around in pure horror to see what was going on, but the sight of it quickly made her turn around again. Connor had not only hit the old man once but actually kept bashing his head in, almost straddling the man as he let a short couple of incredibly brutal hard blows rain down on him, killing the attacker, turning his head into an unrecognizable, bloody mess. Then he grabbed the knife the man had used to threaten the woman and stabbed his chest, the heart there, just to make sure he was really dead.

Murphy watched the scenario equally surprised and shocked, but just a short moment later he suddenly found himself stumbling a bit backwards because the woman ran right into him to tackle him into a shaky hard hug. "I can't believe it's you, oh my god" she breathed, into Murphy's shoulder, and although the younger MacManus just couldn't stop himself from watching his brother, he soon found himself responding to the hug, rubbing her back and then turning his head a little to look at the screaming girl. When he turned his head again he could see that Daryl was suddenly there, too, pulling Connor away from the dirty mess he'd created.

Murphy felt a little relieved then and there, knowing that his brother was being looked after right now, so he finally allowed himself to relax, and he finally really let that realization kick in.

"Sam? Te fuck are ye doing here? Where's Mike?!" he asked, grabbing the woman by both her arms to pull her away a bit so he could look at her.

But it was her without a doubt. Samantha and her little daughter Suzie, the woman and her family he'd made friends with last year at Quabbin Park, the reservoir there, where he'd stayed with Simmons.

* * *

Connor almost mechanically brought the stick down to the man's head three to five times, applying all the force and pressure he could gather to make sure the guy got killed by it. He wasn't even really angry or aggressive about it although he could if he wanted to, because this guy was a scumbag, because he could've hurt Murphy or the woman, but the truth was that he felt almost indifferent to the act of killing itself, there was almost nothing remotely interesting going on inside him as he did it, as he grabbed the knife and stabbed the man once and that hard, just to make sure.

It was all about getting it done, killing, eliminating yet another threat to make sure that no scumbag like him could get to stay on this earth to eat the food they needed, to shoot the bullets they could use, it was all about survival of the better now. He was aware of how Daryl placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back, away from the dead man before he could make it any worse, although just those very few hard hits had already turned his head into an unrecognizable mess anyway.

Connor stumbled back a little and then calmly wiped his face, letting go of the stick and then cleaning the knife on the old man's shirt because he wanted to keep it. Then he just let Daryl help him up, not really listening to what his friend was saying to him. He just stared at the mess he'd created and then lazily kicked at the man's lifeless body to make sure he wasn't moving anymore, pleased with himself because it was more than obvious that the fucker was dead indeed. Then, he just leaned down again to grab his stick, too, and it was almost like that simple leaning down motion immediately _did_ bring his emotions back, rushing into his head along with his blood, right after the act of killing.

The pounding of his heart, and most of all, the rage.

"She alright?" Daryl asked, hand still gently placed on Connor's lower back as he tried to keep him steady and close after whatever the hell had just happened, but he was looking at Murphy and the woman who were still holding each other, talking to each other as if they knew each other already.

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay" the woman said, quickly grabbing a stray strand of hair to put it back behind her ear. They didn't get to keep talking because then Connor suddenly interrupted them. "Te fuck did ye think you were doing?!" he said, starting to walk so he could get closer to his brother. "Storming in here like that without cover or fuckin reason, it could've been a fuckin ambush!" he shouted, giving Murphy an incredibly angry glare. Murphy finally and properly let go of Samantha and frowned angrily at Connor, quite taken aback by the fact that he was suddenly being yelled at, although he had considered this whole thing an act of heroism.

"Oh fuck ye, what was I sapposed ta do. I couldn't exactly just let a woman scream fer help and get killed when we're right around the fuckin corner! I thought this is what we fuckin do!"

"And ye couldn't have thought this shit through _before_ ye started running like a fuckin headless chicken? Te fucker could've had a gun and he could've shot ye the moment ye stepped through that fuckin door! You fancy that, huh? You wanna get fuckin shot again just cos yer not…"

"Well then fuckin go ahead, considering _yer_ the one who did it last time, without hesitating I might add, so stop patronizing me ye fuckin dick!"

Connor immediately shut up, staring at his sibling. Murphy pressed his lips together a little, regretting his choice of words, but right now he was too angry with Connor for yelling at him like that. In the end he still let out a little sigh, ducked his head a little and swallowed.

"Look, 'm sorry Con, but I did what I thought was fuckin right. If we'd waited any longer to plan shit, the fucker could've killed her and she obviously sounded like she needed help."

Connor shot the woman a little glare and then let out a sigh as well, looking down, using his right hand to rub his forehead.  
Then he shook his head angrily, and turned on his heels.

"All right. Fine. Fuck it…'m gonna check if he had a couple 'a friends with 'im" he muttered after a while and then left the living room, leaving a surprised Murphy, Daryl and Samantha behind. The latter was actually the first one to speak up, still staring at the door they had seen Connor exit the room through.

"Connor..you…you found him?" she asked, turning her head to look at Murphy. "Your brother?"

"Aye" Murphy said, still looking confused and a bit lost because everything had happened within the blink of an eye. Daryl turned his head after watching Connor leave and then eyed his lookalike and the woman, frowning. "Wait, yah know each other?" he asked, curious, but still worried. Both nodded, but it was Sam who spoke up simply because Murphy was too lost in thoughts about his brother, brooding, wondering if he should be angry with him or apologize.

"Hmhm, we met up North last winter. They helped us fortify our camp and….speaking of which, where's Keith?" she asked, looking at Murphy, whose look on his face visibly changed. Got a bit more upset for different reasons. "He didn't make it" Murphy muttered, looking at Samantha, remembering their friend. "Got shot by a buncha scumbags when we arrived in Augusta" he explained, and although it had been a couple of months now, remembering that still hurt, now more than ever because Samantha was a physical actual reminder of that past.

He still remembered the imagery of the car crash by the shopping center vividly, remembered the bullet hole between Simmons eyes after that sniper had managed to take him out. He quickly closed his eyes for a second and then looked back at Samantha who was now holding her daughter in her arms, kissing her, shushing her, trying to calm her down.

"What about Mike?" he asked and Samantha stilled, looking at him, looking just as lost and sad.

"Two months ago" she managed to say and looked down at her daughter, to kiss her, mumbling against her head " He got bit. I had to end it."

"'m sorry" Murphy muttered, and Samantha gave him a sad smile, reaching out to rub his upper arm.

"Me, too" they shared a little private intimate look, sharing past times, then Samantha sniffed once, getting herself back together, turning her head a little.

"But hey, you found your brother again, so that's nice that's…" when she looked at Daryl again she suddenly half frowned half smirked. "No offence but….you two look freakishly alike. How come the other one is your brother when it's…."

"Fucker stole my face."  
"I ain't lookin nothing like this freak."

Daryl and Murphy growled at the same time, frowning at each other but then giving in to almost invisible smirks because they kind of enjoyed denying the obvious at the same time, all the time.

"'m gonna go look for your bro. Give y'all some time to catch up" Daryl then said, giving Murphy a small nod. Murphy nodded back and Samantha moved a little, looking thankful.

"Thank you…what's your name again?"

"Daryl" the hunter mumbled, slurring the name so that Samantha had trouble understanding him. But he'd already turned around and was leaving the room to go after Connor, so it was up to Murphy to keep talking. "'s just Daryl. He's yer typical illiterate redneck hillbilly…" he explained, looking right back at the door, still smiling because of his explanation, but the smile soon vanished when he remembered Connor, saw the bloody body on the ground. "Just kiddin, he's a good friend 'f ours" he muttered, rubbing Samantha's back a little, really wanting to follow his friend and brother now, too, but he needed to talk first.

"Hey, have ye been here all by yerself? How long?"

"Not too long, we only just got here looking for supplies. It was kind of a mess, really" Samantha said, letting out a breathy little laugh. "I tried to find you and Keith after we lost Mike. Keith had left us the coordinates and information about Augusta, but there was nothing there, just….awful people. Probably the same who… well. On our way out, we found those signs by those train tracks that supposedly lead to this place called Terminus…and this right here was just supposed to be a short stop along the way. And now look at us."

Murphy frowned a little.

"Terminus?"

Samantha nodded, kissing and cuddling her baby girl once more, with a happier smile, now that she obviously felt a whole lot safer with three more men to help her protect her child.

"Yeah. They offer sanctuary and community. The deal is…" she said and let out a little sigh, now looking tired and just plain honest about it. "Me and Suzie, we're not made for this world. We can't keep going like this. Out here in the open. We need to find some place safe. Some place with…fences and supplies, community, shelter. So that's where we're going now."

"Yer right…" Murphy muttered, frowning a little as he let that bit of information sink in. He then grabbed Sam by both her arms again and looked at her. "All right. 'm gonna go help Daryl 'n Conn check te place out, and as soon as we've made sure everything's alright and as soon as we found some food and supplies, we can sit down and talk about tha. I think they'd like ta know more about this, cos we're lookin fer people of our own. Maybe they saw that, too. As fer now just….sit down and let us do the work. Yer safe now, okay?"

Samantha nodded, looking relieved.

"Okay" she said and smiled a little when Murphy placed a gentle hand on her daughter's cheek to pinch it affectionately, which made the girl giggle a bit.

* * *

Connor turned his head a little when he heard the door creek behind him, half suspecting that it was Murphy, but then again, he wasn't exactly surprised to see Daryl there, either. It was almost becoming some sort of ritual these days. He huffed a little and turned around again to keep searching the cupboards for anything useful.

"Don't even start" he warned, but he already sounded calmer and more collected again, more like the old Connor after his yet again very strange act of sudden brutality and aggression. "Ye know I was right" he added and Daryl leaned against the door frame, folding his arms a little, nodding, although he didn't exactly look pleased.

"Yah sure got the point across" he muttered, scanning his friend head to toe, wondering.

"Did ye check the other rooms?" Connor asked, trying to change topic. Daryl chewed on his lips, nodding a little. "Don't sound like anyone else's home" he said, looking back a little, down the corridor. "Guy looked like a crazy loner. Probably saw her go in here all by herself, took his chances. Don't sound or look the type to come in groups."

"He was just a fuckin filthy scumbag. No one's gonna miss te fucker, praise be ta fuckin Jesus."

Daryl pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath.

"So what, you get off on that now? Clobberin lowlives t'death?"

"Well, if I'd had a gun, I would've fuckin used it. Murph was right, he could've killed te lass. Sure looked like he was about ta do it anyway. So te way I see it, I did te world and that woman a favor by _clobberin some lowlife ta death_ as ye call it. I call it good riddance."

Connor grabbed the small bag he'd taken to fill it with clothes and useful items and then turned around, about to leave the room.

"We should still leave this place, just ta make sure. Her screamin could be heard halfway cross town. Sooner or later we're gonna get more visitors if we stay here. Alive or dead."

"And wouldn't yah like that" Daryl said, honest now, looking Connor straight in the eye, the look on his face saying it all.

_I worry about you, man._

Connor looked back at him, almost looking like he'd been caught in the act for a moment, but then he just huffed and shook his head.

"Don't be ridiculous" he muttered, trying to walk again. "'m gonna check the other rooms fer supplies. Ye take the left side, I the right so we can get te fuck outta here. Maybe she knows where we should look fer supplies next" he just said, sounding calm, collected and methodical again.

"Hey" Daryl said, his voice low as he grabbed Connor by his arm, squeezing tight, to hold him in place, looking right into his eyes. "'m not stupid, alright. I know 't was stupid of yah bro t'just run in here and play massive target just cos he heard some woman scream. He risked his life, and ours and you're right. It's stupid that gets yah killed these days" he said, not letting Connor look away, letting him know that he was on his side, but at the same time, not. "But he's right, too. Good people need help, we _try_ to help. 's what we do. And 's who we are. Cos if we don't even try….it don't make yah any better than that asshole yah just killed cos he's 'evil'. 's all I gotta say 'bout that topic."

Connor just stared at his friend a little longer, the expression on his face really unreadable, and maybe that made Daryl worry even more.  
But then Connor gave him a little smile, breathing out with a gentle chuckle, rubbing the side of Daryl's arm.

"Jesus, do ye really think I don't know that?" he asked, smirking. "Looks like ye finally do get te point about our whole business. 's all about takin te initiative and steppin up. Now, don't think 'm stupid either. I get te way yer lookin at me these days and 'm tellin ye I'm fuckin _fine_ , alright?" he said, looking at Daryl with that smile and then quickly leaning in to give him a reassuring kiss, which actually surprised the hunter.

He immediately returned the kiss though because he needed that near, that intimacy to keep the man he'd grown to love right here with him, keep him locked before he was getting more and more replaced by that…cold stranger. "'m fine" Connor repeated quickly and kissed Daryl once more, knowing exactly that, playing that longing to soothe his friend, to stop him from annoying him with that worry and trying to hold him down, to keep it up just so he wouldn't freak out his friend even more.

Through the kiss and clinging he could just feel it, what was going through Daryl's head, that desperate clingy honest and deep love, and maybe that sobered him up a bit. Although he had just intended to make Daryl feel better with the kiss he suddenly could feel the healing effect of it as well, which was why he quickly ended it before it got too overwhelming.

"Alright, let's check the rest of this house. 'm fuckin starving" he said and gave Daryl a little pat on his back, really appreciating their closeness and trust. Daryl licked and chewed his lips a little, confused because of the sudden abrupt ending of the kiss, even rubbing his mouth in slight embarrassment, but then he eventually did turn around to follow Connor, only to see Murphy come down the corridor to join them. He was looking at his brother with a slightly worried and unsure look on his face, and when he was just about to start talking, Daryl spoke up.

"Yo, M" he said, making Murphy look up while Connor passed him and gave him an equally affectionate gentle pat to his chest, to let him know that he was no longer that mad with him, but really wanted to keep going. Murphy smiled a little, trying to place a hand on Connor's on his chest to nudge him right back, but then quickly turned his head again to look at Daryl, who had placed himself in front of a closed door, rattling it a little.

"Help me get this son of a bitch of a door open, wouldcha" Daryl said gently, nodding at it, to get Murphy to move over to him. Murphy frowned a little but obeyed, coming closer, but he did turn his head one more time to watch Connor disappear inside another room. He then placed himself in front of the door Daryl was trying to open, to get ready to open it up forcefully by ramming it.

Little did he know that Daryl was actually just holding it closed, that the whole thing was a farce to keep him from talking to Connor just yet. He just didn't want him to screw his progress with Connor up, now that the Irishman was somewhat calm and normal again. He just knew that they'd probably start bashing their heads in over something again, stupid brothers that they were, so he wanted to give his friend some timeout by occupying Murphy with something else instead.

They rammed the door a couple of times and then Daryl let go, making them stumble inside what looked like the master bedroom.

"Not so fucken macho now, eh?" Murphy teased and bumped into Daryl with purpose, entering the room to check it out. Daryl just huffed and had another quick look outside, to make sure that Connor was busy enough searching the other rooms, then he finally and properly entered the master bedroom as well to help Murphy look for supplies and food or anything useful.

"So yah know the girl?" he asked, trying to start a conversation so he could eventually lead it to the topic he actually really wanted to discuss with the younger MacManus.

"Aye. Spent te winter with her and her family up in Mass."

"She good?"

Murphy nodded once more.

"Aye. They were real nice. She had a husband 'n everything before things went bad" the younger MacManus explained and then suddenly started chuckling a little, which made Daryl turn around with a frown. Murphy had found an old flannel shirt that looked an awful lot like the ones Daryl usually wore, only that this one actually had proper sleeves. The dark-haired Irishman immediately grabbed it to put it on, dragging it over his dirty black shirt until he was sporting the new one. He then turned around to look at Daryl, squinting his eyes a little so they were smaller and looking more like Daryl's.

" _I ain't no goddamn leprechaun yah dumbass_ " he imitated Daryl, laughing halfway through it. Maybe Daryl was actually a bit impressed by how well Murphy really imitated him, with the way he looked and moved and talked and everything, and the shirt and the fact that they looked very much alike anyway wasn't exactly helping. The only real differences between them were the tattoos, scars, the fact that Murphy was cleaner and less muscular, but other than that, they sure could fool people with that if they wanted to.

"Yah sure are, now cut it out. We're doin serious shit here" Daryl muttered, trying his hardest not to smirk or show any signs that he found it funny indeed.

" _Keep yah trap shut, ain't doin no serious shit_ " Murphy went on, grinning, but it already looked like he was giving the act up.

"I said cut it out, jackass" Daryl said, angrier this time, but Murphy kept the flannel on. He simply left it unbuttoned, revealing his own shirt. It was getting colder each day so he decided to hold on to it, not only to piss Daryl off, because it actually felt nice and didn't look half as dirty as their usual worn out clothes. But at least he stopped imitating Daryl.

He let out a little sigh and got back to searching the cupboards, cheering a little when he found a very old chocolate bar inside the bedside table. Maybe it was a bit too white to be considered good, but fuck it, food was food these days, and expiration dates couldn't be trusted. These days, they were more of a vague date that could easily be expanded by a couple of months. He put it inside his pockets and then grabbed an old pillow case so he could use it as bag, and the more he got caught up with looting, the more serious he got again.

"Hey, so did ye talk ta Connor?" he asked, gently, after a moment of just looting. Daryl, who was momentarily caught up leafing through an old family photo album, nodded with a quiet "Uuhuh."

"Is he still mad? Fuck, I mean I know I wasn't thinkin, but ye know I did the right thing."

"He ain't mad. Yah know 's just the way he is with yah. Maybe 't was foolish, but we saved that woman and kid's lives so it's all good, emo kid."

"Aye" Murphy said, still lost in thoughts. "But still. I don' get why he had ta freak out like that."

Daryl let out a sigh, because this was the exact topic he'd wanted to talk about with Murphy.

"Yeah. I worry 'bout your bro, man" he said and turned around, shooting a quick glance at the door to make sure Connor wasn't there, then he looked straight at Murphy.  
His lookalike looked back at him and bit his lips, looking at the door, too.

"Aye, me too."

Daryl looked at Murphy a little while longer, then he let out a little angry snort and shook his head.

"Seriously. Fuck yah stupid memory loss. If your brain weren't so scrambled, you could just tell me if the guy been that way before with all yah bible-banging psycho-killing crap. Cos I feel like that thing's getting outta hand. But how'd you know."

"Fuck ye, I know and remember enough ta tell ye that we weren't _that_ brutal" Murphy snapped a little, looking offended and angry. He then kept packing some clothes and a blanket. Trying to concentrate a bit more, remembering a bit more. "We only shot people in their heads and delivered them ta god. With pennies. And prayers. Not like…that."

Daryl took a deep breath, rubbing the side of his neck.

"Yeah, I know. Guy told me."

They both fell into silence for a moment, thinking about the same thing.

"I thought 't was your fault at first. Cos of you comin back, bein the dynamic duo and all that crap. But now, I ain't too sure anymore."

"I tried ta ask him 'bout what those fuckers did ta him. When they captured him 'n killed Hershel and took him hostage. He wouldn't tell me 'n just shrugged it off."

Daryl snorted.

"Yeah, that's the stupid leprechaun in a nutshell."

Murphy let out a little sigh.

"Yer right. We need ta find yer people again. I feel like he was doing better when he was part of a larger group."

"Yeah. He ain't no good thinkin he's in charge. It gets to the guy's head."

"Aye, that it does."

"Are we really agreein on something and workin together right now?"

"Fuck if I know" Murphy said, and they both suddenly chuckled.

Then the younger MacManus got a bit more serious again.

"Look, I know 's fun ta butt our heads and hate each other all te time, but I think we're both on te same page here. I know what me brother means ta ye, and I really appreciate that. Okay. 's what he needs. Family and friends. So maybe we should do just that. Work tagether. Cos I seriously don' fuckin wanna know what he's gonna end up doin otherwise. "

"Yeah" Daryl muttered, turning his head a little to look back at the door.

"D'ye love 'im?" Murphy eventually asked, which made Daryl turn his head to shoot him an angry glare, but then the look on his face eventually softened, after a while, and he finally allowed himself to give Murphy a small nod.

"Me, too. So we're gonna get his shit t'gether, right."

"Right" Daryl agreed once again, and he was actually really happy to know that he had a definite ally here, someone he could trust just as much as Connor, maybe even more. This was one of the rare moments where he could really see and feel that Murphy was actually older than him, that he could actually be just as much in charge as his brother could, it was just that most of the time, the younger MacManus simply chose not to.

Although he did love to fight with him, hate him and get annoyed by him, Daryl did have to admit that he was incredibly relieved to know that Murphy was there as well, because he wasn't entirely sure if he'd been able to get all of this done by himself. He'd helped Connor once, back on the farm, but he'd been awful at that, and he wasn't sure if he could really do it for a second time.

"Sam told me about tha one place. Terminus 's called. It sounds just like Woodbury. She said there's maps all over the place, by the train tracks around here. Maybe we should try that."

"Yeah. Maybe the others saw the same thing" Daryl muttered, because it was well worth a shot. He didn't quite trust it because it sounded too easy, too inviting, but it was what it was. Something worth checking out these days.

"That's what I told her. I think we should go there."

"Yah bro wants t'keep going anyway."

"Great, and now he's got himself a destination."

* * *

They were walking down main street, now properly packed up with new clothes, camping goods, two tents and some food they had found inside one of the houses down the street which seemed to have belonged to the old man, eager to leave town to get some miles behind them before sundown. Connor certainly was calmer and more himself again, now that he'd eaten, found enough rations and a new destination to keep his mind content and busy, making the whole march more pleasant by default. They were walking in pairs, with Connor and Daryl up front, keeping an eye out on their surroundings for any walkers or attackers as Murphy and Samantha walked right behind them.

The young woman was carrying her daughter in an improvised harness she'd strapped around herself, attached to her own backpack she was carrying and that was filled with cans and bottled water. She was actually laughing every now and then, obviously enjoying the fact that she could finally talk to someone other than her infant daughter, an actual old friend, with whom she had lots of catching up to do.

Murphy actually talked more around her then he'd ever done it with Connor or Daryl, telling her many many stories and details about his odyssey down here to Georgia, their shared friend Major Simmons, anything that came to his mind. He also told her about Woodbury, Connor, who pretended that he wasn't listening, even Daryl and all the annoying comments that were connected to their similarity.

Daryl just kept Connor company, hoping for him to turn into that equally cheery Irish bundle of energy, but he could tell from the look on his friend's face that Connor was actually eavesdropping on his brother, and maybe he even looked a little jealous, like it pissed him off a bit how Murphy suddenly had a friend he didn't know and who they didn't share, twin brotherhood and the jealousy attached to it shining brightly. Somehow, it made Daryl smirk a bit. He even moved closer a little nudge his friend's shoulder, turning around once to look at Murphy, Samantha and the kid.

"You think they had something goin, sweet baby bro and Miss Mass?"

Connor snorted angrily.

" _Please_. First of all, we're talkin about _Murph_ here. Second, the way I understood, te lass was married. Besides, since when are ye te gossipin kinda type."

"Well, sure saw a whole lot more twisted shit back 'n Atlanta with baby Shane and Lori. 'n look at yah now, all jealous" Daryl said, actually chuckling.  
It felt damn nice to feel the role reversal for once, how it was him making fun of Connor and not the other way round.

"Fuck you" Connor growled and Daryl nudged him a little.

"Maybe it's good stuff. Maybe this is the right kinda time to start over. For all of us. This Terminus thing and now the girl…maybe that's a sign from yah big boss up there. That we're gonna find our people, start over."

Connor just snorted once more.

"Aye, maybe" he muttered and then finally turned his head for a short time, looking at his brother who actually looked quite content, relaxed and actually happy, despite the fact that they had no real home, not too much food, an uncertain destination and now, certainly more trouble.

"Or maybe this is him just throwin even more obstacles in our way."

Daryl frowned.

"What the hell's that supposed t'mean?"

"Think about it. Now we got two more mouths ta feed. And one of them is a freaking infant."

Daryl let out an angry snort.

"I thought yah liked kids. Yah've always been talkin about wanting to have kids one day. Yah the one who hung out with Rick's kid all the time and who taught him t'shoot and all that crap. Seriously, what the hell's wrong with you these days. They broke a circuit somewhere inside yah Irish melon?"

"'m just saying that she isn't Carl or any of the other kids we had in Woodbury. She can't even fuckin walk yet. And food is more important fer her than it is fer us. And look at us, we can hardly fuckin feed ourselves ever since we lost Woodbury."

"Which is why we're goin to check this Terminus place out, now, don't we?"

"Right…" Connor muttered and then rubbed his forehead a little. "'m just…fuckin tired alright."

They got interrupted by Samantha, who suddenly called out.

"Wait" she said, making Daryl and Connor turn around to look at her, curious to hear what she had to say. The woman nodded to the left, the building there.

"Could I just…go in there real quick look for diapers? I'm kinda…running low and Suzie…well."

Connor eyed her head to toe, looked at the little girl in her arms, then looked at the drug store to their left, until he let out a little sigh.

"Fine. I'll keep watch."

Samantha looked thankful and nodded, quickly turning her head to look at Murphy.

"Could you…hold her? It'd go much faster if I didn't have to…"

"What..uhm, oh yeah, sure" Murphy said, quickly taking the kid, who dug her little fingers into the flannel, holding it tight, playing with it, making Murphy smirk and talk to her almost immediately.

"Right" Samantha said, wiping her hands on her jeans, grasping her knife and then looking at Connor once more. She looked a bit intimidated by him ever since he had killed that man, like she couldn't quite understand him and the way he ticked, but he just gave her a small reassuring nod and patient smile, although he was faking it. "Right" she said once more and then turned around to head for the drug store, and after having looked at Connor and Murphy for a short moment, back and forth, Daryl finally grabbed his crossbow and spoke up.

"Wait up. 'm comin with you. Check the place out real quick while we're at it."

"Oh…okay, sure" Samantha said, watching Daryl enter the building first.

* * *

It did smell just like any other old abandoned store they had come across during the past year. The old lingering stench of rotten food that had been long since forgotten inside dead fridges and displays, and just like any other place most of the shelves had been wiped clean. Daryl did find two old lighters and a crushed cigarette pack that had fallen behind one of the shelves, almost impossible to reach but there it was, a treat for him and Connor.

Samantha had entered the hygiene section in the mean time to get the one thing looters usually left behind so he had no trouble finding it - diapers, some of them a bit moist, but others completely intact, ready to use. Daryl, in the meantime, grabbed two old candy bars and old magazines for Connor just like always, then he eventually doubled back to get closer to Sam and the hygiene section, scanning the small dark shop a little in the process, but there seemed to be no threat around.

"So how come yah still alive?" he asked after a while, trying to make conversation to get to know their latest companion a bit better.  
Before he got the answer he suddenly couldn't help but stop in his tracks, because then there it was again.

The _special_ section.

Just like last time when he'd hit the Big Spot, only that this time, so many things were different.  
Because now he wasn't exactly angry or embarrassed because of it anymore.

Protection. Stimulation.

Condoms. Massage oil. Lube.

Another thing people didn't really bother taking these days.  
Maybe….

"Oh that's easy" Samantha suddenly said, answering his question, startling Daryl a bit and making him look up. The woman was still busy packing up some of the diapers and other stuff for her small child. "People see a woman with a small kid and they make the big mistake. They underestimated me."

Daryl chuckled a little and smirked.

"You know, a woman with a baby doesn't mean easy prey. Quite the opposite. It means your dealing with a _mom_. And as a mom, I will do _anything_ to protect my child. Literally anything. So that's what they usually did. Underestimate me. Underestimate this. Bad for them, good for me."

"Nice" Daryl said, deciding that he liked her. But he was soon staring at these condoms and all the other stuff again, pressing his lips together, thinking about it, a bit hesitant at first.

"And the walkers, did you know that if you cover yourself in their guts and blood, they can't smell you? Keith taught us that back in Belchertown."

"Keith, that's M's dead friend, right?" Daryl said, looking at Samantha but leaning down a bit so he could quickly shove a pack of condoms and other random slippery stuff that was supposed to help inside his own little bag, quickly adjusting his clothes and pretending that nothing had happened.

"Yeah" Samantha said and then walked around the aisle, making Daryl shift a bit so he wasn't standing directly next to the condom section.

"Hey listen, can I ask you something?" she asked, looking directly into Daryl's eyes.

The hunter shrugged a little.

"Shoot."

"Daryl, right?"

The hunter nodded.

"Say, Murphy's brother…is he all right?"

Daryl frowned a little.

"What'd you mean?"

"It's just that…" she took a deep breath and had a look outside. " We got to know Murphy early on. When he had more trouble after what happened with his brother and it just got me thinking. He told us that it was his brother who did…that" she said, pointing at her forehead, indicating that she was talking about Murphy's scar. "And today I saw him kill that man and I just…is he a good man? Because I need to know. I trust Murphy and you seem like a nice guy, but I'm not exactly comfortable leaving my daughter around…"

"He's a good man. The guy saved more lives than I can count. He saved mine. Without a second thought" Daryl immediately said, shutting her up before she got to really speak it out. "That thing?" he then said, pointing at his own forehead. "That was an accident and it fucked him up real bad. What yah seein out there… _that's_ there because of this. He just…has a hard time keepin his shit together sometimes. But other than that, yah trust one bro you can trust the other."

Samantha looked at him a little while longer, looking him right in the eye, and Daryl stared right back, kind of admiring her strength and will power, figuring that yup, he liked her. Then she eventually nodded.

"Good."

* * *

For a while, Murphy just sat on the window sill and made the little girl hop up and down on his lap, playing with her, enjoying her very presence. She was babbling and chewing on her fingers a lot just like he remembered her do it last year, although she had been a whole lot smaller and lighter back then. He really enjoyed having a kid around because they were alike in spirit, because they brought so much joy and life to this otherwise so boring and grey world. But then he eventually looked at Connor more and more, who was walking up and down the sidewalk a bit, keeping an eye on the surrounding streets, bringing his fingers to his mouth multiple times, as if he was trying to smoke a cigarette, only to remember that they didn't have any left.

Just seeing that motion made Murphy crave one as well, and for a second, he could even understand why Connor was so cranky lately. The withdrawal symptoms were getting worse each day, and the both of them were desperately longing for a smoke. Murphy chewed on his lips a little, chuckling when Suzie reached for them with her little fingers, but then he eventually got up, taking her with him, walking over to Connor as he rummaged through his pockets until he found the old chocolate bar.

"Here" Murphy said, handing it over to Connor as he adjusted Suzie's weight. The blonde haired MacManus turned around and looked down, looked at the thing in Murphy's hand. His sibling shrugged a little. "I found that back at te house in a drawer. 's a little white but…'s something. It's 80% so it's the good shit."

Connor looked at the chocolate bar, then at Murphy's face, then back at the food and then suddenly chuckled, old childhood memories once again rushing over him. This was old Murphy in the flesh, his way of apologizing by sharing treats and other goodies to cheer him up again. Always with the same introduction. A simple but sweet and innocent _here, Con_.

Connor chuckled and took the bar, and just like always, split it in half and gave the other back to Murphy.

"Thanks, Murph" he said, eating some of the chocolate and humming lovingly, no matter how old it really was. Little Suzie suddenly tried to imitate Connor's humming, making Murphy laugh once again. He made her jump up and down a bit again and smiled, and Connor found himself watching his brother take care of the kid.

"Ye like that? Huh? Ye like that sweet lil lass? Ye want one, too? Aye? Aye? Well, say ahhh, come on" Murphy said, laughing once more at the faces Suzie made "C'mon. Open yer mouth and…ahhh" he said, putting a small piece of chocolate right in her mouth. Suzie took it in her mouth and sucked on it once, only to pull a face and spit it out, making it land on Murphy's already dirty shirt along with a heap of slimy spit.

Murphy laughed and then let out a disgusted "Ew" and even Connor couldn't help but smile and chuckle.

"Looks like she likes ye big time" he said, but he still couldn't stop looking at the scenario, because now here it was. The thing he'd been thinking about a lot while Murphy had been gone, how he'd wanted to be an uncle to see his brother like that, to see the family legacy going, a sight their mother would've loved as well, may she rest in peace.

"Aye, she does" Murphy chuckled, getting rid of the chocolate and then stroking the back of Suzie's head until he looked up again, the laughter dying, until the look on his face got more serious and honest again.

"Look Con, 'm sorry 'bout te house thing, all right. But just look at…"

"'s all right, Murph. 's all right. Ye were right. I was being a dick and ye did te right thing. This little lad and her Ma probably wouldn' have made it otherwise, if we'd given this old fuck more time. But we took care of it and now 's all done and dealt with. I just got scared fer a moment, he could've had a gun and shot ye 's all. But it's fine now. I don't exactly wanna talk 'bout that shit right now."

"Right" Murphy said, still looking at Connor, who ate the rest of the chocolate and then gently wiped the corners of his mouth, lost in thoughts.

"Now what te fuck's takin them so long" Murphy said after a while, sensing that Connor wasn't going to say much else regarding the topic. But at least there had been some sort of start.

"Right?" Connor said, chocolate still in his mouth, now looking amused. "Maybe he just went in there ta take his chances with her, considering she's probably the last woman on this planet."

Murphy snorted loudly.

"Even if that's te case, no way he's gonna score with Sam."

"Well why not, she seems ta like ye, and he's got yer face."

Murphy gave him his infamous ' _really_ ' face.

"We're talkin about yer girlfriend here. He's straight as a fuckin circle."

Although he didn't want to, Connor just had to chuckle a little.

"I beg ta differ. He had a chick once. And he crushed on Carol" Connor threw in, trying to defend his friend's pride, although he just did happen to find their convo amusing.

"But he's still fuckin you. Don't even _pretend_ it's not like tha, Con. 'm not stupid."

"Hey, _I'd_ probably fuck her, if I were in his place. But I respect a lady's choices and freedom. Besides, she's a widow. A sad one. And I respect tha as well."

"No you wouldn't fuck 'er" Murphy said lazily, knowing his brother well enough by now to differentiate between faking and reality. "Yer straight as a circle too, that, and real fuckin inconsiderate."

"'m not fuckin gay, alright" Connor immediately growled, angrily, offended. "Certainly had more girlfriends than ye ever had, fuckwatt."

"Considering that I can't remember shit, yer probably lying. So, fuck you."

"Aye keep telling yerself that, little brother. Still means what it means."

They immediately stopped talking when Daryl and Samantha finally exited the store, ready to get going. Connor and Murphy shot each other a little knowing look and smirk, one that made Daryl frown almost immediately, but both MacManus brothers decided to keep the topic of their conversation to themselves, too amused by the look on Daryl's face to really give it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friendly reminder that there's some more slashing going on in the next chapter ;)


	36. Rails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with a new and very lovely shippy little chapter. Me gusta.  
> I also wanted to use this opportunity to thank you for all the comments, kuddos and views on this site. You are actually more active than ffnet now. Very nice. So thank you!
> 
> There's only 2 or 3 chapters left, I think. Gonna end this story with them reaching Terminus.

"Well, what te fuck does it say?" Murphy said, as he looked impatiently at his brother, who was reading the sign someone had nailed to a post by the railroad. It wasn't like he couldn't read it at all, it was just that some letters were scrambled, didn't look right, that he still had a hard time really reading them because of his brain injury. He looked at Connor, who was just staring at the sign a little while longer, reading the words with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Sanctuary fer all. Community fer all. Those who arrive survive" his brother read, still staring at the sign, smoking one of the cigarettes from the pack Daryl had brought him from the store earlier this morning. Murphy turned his head a little to look at Samantha curiously, who was looking at the sign as well. "'s tha what ye saw?" he asked her and she nodded, adjusting her daughter's weight.

"Cos we ain't survivin without getting there anyway. Don't need to arrive nowhere t'survive" Daryl said, commenting on the sign, and Connor snorted.

Murphy shot him a little glare, silently thinking something that Daryl could read in his eyes even without his lookalike saying it out loud.

_I thought we were gonna get Connor to go there and stop him from freakin out even more. Don't fuck this up._

"Just sayin. Could've phrased that one better, 's all" he muttered, giving Murphy a little nod to make him understand that he was still on his side, then he turned his head a little to look at Connor, who was still looking at the sign and map, smoking cigarette in his mouth.

"At least they sound like they're friendlies" Samantha said, coming closer to look at the map once again, too.

"Yeah, maybe a bit too friendly" Connor muttered, scratching his chin.

Murphy rolled his eyes.

"Jaysus focken Christ, don't even start. Always with yer fuckin paranoia. 's damn fuckin better than yer Wild West idea."

Connor stopped looking at the map and leaned back up again, so he could turn around and look at his brother. He took another drag on his cigarette and the walked towards Murphy to give him a gentle affectionate slap to his cheek, only to keep walking to pass him and start walking in the direction of where Terminus was marked on the map. Murphy snorted when he felt the affectionate slap, laughed a little and leaned away.

"Relax fuckhead, I didn' say that we wasn't gonna go there" Connor said and Murphy chuckled a breathy little "Fuck ye. Get off" the moment he felt his brother's hand on his cheek. "I was just trying ta say that we should be careful and check te place out first before we make any final calls. Me so called paranoia 's what kept me arse alive. And yers by the way, before shit hit te fan."

"Yeahhh yeahh" Murphy said lazily and started following Connor, giving Samantha an annoyed eyeroll as he imitated Connor's talking behind his back, which made the woman laugh. Daryl smirked a little and shook his head as he quickly but discretely passed them so he could walk next to Connor instead.

"If I get this right, map made it look like they've been putting up these signs all over 'round here" he said, trying to use it as conversation starter with his friend.

"Aye."

Daryl nodded, looking back for a moment, to catch another glimpse of the sign in the distance.

"Someone must've seen at least one of 'em when they left Woodbury" he muttered, which made Connor turn his head and look at him. "So we gotta go there anyway, look for the others" Daryl said, shrugging a little, watching Connor smoke once more. Connor swallowed and nodded, giving Daryl a faint smile. "Aye" he said once more, lovingly taking a drag on his cigarette, only to cough a little and point ahead.

"Of course we're gonna go there no matter what. I just meant ta say that we just shouldn't go in there all fuckin naïve believing in shit just cos some people put up some signs. I mean, 's just a bit stupid I think. These days, why the fuck would ye put up signs leading ta yer base, when there's scumbags all fuckin around ye. We're either dealing with some very stupid people, or with some very fucken smart people. And we should consider that on our way there."

Daryl turned his head a little to look at his friend once more, watched him smoke the cigarette and overthink, then he let out a little sigh and stared down at the rail tracks.

"There's still some _good_ people 'round, 'y'know. People like us."

Connor snorted.

"Is there then. Te last time I checked, a whole town got fuckin slaughtered by people from the outside. Just ta name a few…a fella named te Governor…that one Terry fella..oh, and those people who had a thing fer decapitating others. Being too careful can't do us any harm now, can it. 'm just thinking ahead fer te worst case scenario."

"Yeah? 'n how 'bout yah turn 'round and look _behind yah_ , dumbass, while yah at it" Daryl growled and nudged Connor a little. When the Irishman turned his head a little he could see his brother and Samantha laughing whole heartedly about some story the younger MacManus was telling her in this very moment, their faces all lit up with bright smiles. Even the little girl in Samantha's arms was giggling, which only seemed to make Murphy's laughing worse.

"There's some lady and a kid right behind yah, and they're only alive cos of yah and your bro" Daryl muttered and Connor turned his head again to look straight ahead, taking a final long drag on his cigarette once more. "So there's four good people round yah right now. Ain't that reason enough t'get a lil perspective? _Maybe yah just gotta believe_ , right" Daryl said and nudged Connor once more, which made the Irishman chuckle and hit him back with a quiet "Fuck you."

It was quiet between them for a moment, then Connor let out a little sigh, giving Daryl a tired smile.

"Since when did te sun start shinin outta yer ass. I don' remember ye bein all Dr Hippy."

Daryl turned his head and looked at Connor mutely, right then and there. It took Connor a while, but he eventually turned his head, too, waiting for an answer.

"Y'know.." Daryl muttered and quickly looked straight ahead, which made Connor frown.

"What?"

Daryl muttered something inaudible, which made Connor give him a sarcastic "Oh right, I get it" as answer, still waiting for a proper reply.  
Daryl looked at his friend for a while, and although he was still a bit embarrassed, he wouldn't look away as he spoke it out, with a little shrug.

"Well maybe some Irish douchebag managed t'shrink my head with all his yappin" he said quietly, looking down.

_Since I met you, man._

The look on Connor's face softened for a moment, affection and gratefulness obvious , and maybe just for a moment he thought about chuckling like a girl and leaning in to kiss his friend, to embrace and celebrate their new much more honest relationship, but he wouldn't do it. Because there were three other people right behind them, because the internalized homophobia might have vanished, but the external one was still there.

"I know right, Murph gets inta yer head te little fucker" he just said, smirking, looking away.

Daryl snorted and shook his head, looking away, too, and maybe he was a bit disappointed that Connor wouldn't answer with any honest words of appreciation or thanks, when he'd been so open with his own. "Pfff" Daryl just muttered and shook his head, turning it a little to look down.

He knew that Connor was just trying to play tough and block everything again, and it was their usual way of interacting with each other. It was like ping-pong. Daryl knew that he was supposed to change topic now, pretend that everything had been said and that everything else was going to be awkward otherwise, but when he heard Murphy and Samantha laugh yet again, when he saw their happiness, saw Murphy's face and remembered their talk from earlier today, he decided to fuck that usual bullshit.

"Speaking of Murph, I saw him steal tha shirt, and now he's pretending he's ye. Did ye see that shit?" Connor asked, chuckling a little as he was obviously already jumping on that business as usual train, changing topic, but Daryl was having none of it.

"Look, how 'bout we stop this fuckery 'n get real this time, leprechaun" he simply said, and maybe he did sound a bit annoyed. "Me 'n your bro, we know yah damn well. And we both know that yah acting weird ever since we found you after Woodbury."

Connor just huffed a little again and avoided Daryl's stare.

"Well, if we gotta get real, maybe I gotta tell ye one more fuckin time that I'm fuckin _fine_ " Connor snarled angrily, immediately looking anywhere but at Daryl.

"Oh yeah, really, then how come yah always act all fuckin cool and change topic every time we mention that yah acting like a goddamned psycho lately."

Connor snorted.

"So what do ye want me ta fuckin do then, cry in yer shoulder like a fuckin pussy? Sorry, but I got other shit ta do. Survivin fer example. And getting our asses…" Connor said, but Daryl started talking mid sentence, too, making them talk almost past each other.

"Yeah well, it ain't like yah ain't done that shit before, remember the farm huh? And yeah, maybe yah gotta do just that cos yah creepin us out. Even the girl back there got that psycho vibe right from the off."

" _Fuck you_. This isn't some fuckin chick flick anymore. And I'm not fuckin gonna break inta tears or some shit just cos some random motherfuckers poked me with a stick a little!" Connor whisper-shouted furiously, his eyes wide and almost a bit insane in his harsh act of trying to defend himself. Daryl fell quiet for a moment and just looked at his friend, then he shook his head and looked away.

"No, yah just gotta go on some weirdass murder-spree instead. Killing people like…"

"…someone trying ta fucking _protect_ his brother, best friend and a woman and her fuckin kid from some psycho-ass old fuck?!" Connor snapped, louder this time, face red already. Then they both fell quiet, for a while. Daryl could see that his friend was shaking. Maybe because of the boiling anger inside him, maybe from all the excitement, maybe because of something else entirely.

Daryl rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a tired sigh, angry with himself and just plain exhausted because an otherwise rather sweet moment between them had been destroyed just like that again. He hated how stressful their relationship still was, hated how it was so obvious that there was something going on with Connor, hated how…

"I just couldn' fuckin do anything, alright" Connor suddenly said, which made Daryl look at him in surprise. Connor was staring straight ahead, almost stoically, walking ahead, eyes fixed on their future target. But he was still talking. "There were three times in me fuckin life where people handcuffed me, ta make me watch them kill others. An two outta those three times, my friends got killed. Right in front of me. And I couldn't do anything" Connor went on, quickly searching his pockets to grab and light another cigarette with shaky fingers.

"And with Murph back 'n Boston" he said, turning his head a little to shoot a look at his laughing and chatting brother, who was so oblivious to the current topic that was being discussed by his brother and his friend. "Fuck, that was practically like I was restrained, too. When he got bit and I was standing there watchin that happen and I couldn't do anything because of te distance between us…And then I got fucken sick, this Terry fucker tried ta kill Murph and told me about it, and then Hershel… _I'm just getting so fucking tired of this shit_. Evil fucks hurting and killin good people all te time when 'm not in control. I'm fucking _sick_ of it."

He swallowed a bit and looked Daryl straight in the eye then, after a moment of getting himself back together. "Y'wanna know what they did?" he said, still staring. Daryl nodded a little.

"That woman took a long sharp knife like yers, grabbed Hershel by his head, pulled him back, cut his carotid first, then his throat, and then she kept fuckin cutting, alright?" Connor said, which made Daryl press his lips together as he closed his eyes for a moment. "Te bitch cut his head off, let him bleed out in fronta me and on me, and then they left me. There was a moment on my way there, where they kept me, when I could've killed her. But because of my stupid 'no women' rule from before this shit, she got ta live and she got ta go ahead and killed Hershel. They just beat me, cut me, and strangled me a little. Te usual shit, it was actually quite boring, so that's not te fuckin point" Connor went on, matter of factly, almost calmly explaining the scenery, what had happened.

When he saw that Daryl wanted to say something, he quickly kept talking.

"It's just te dying friends part that is pissing me off. A whole fuckin lot. And maybe I'm so sick of it that I finally decided ta go right fucking ahead."

Connor took another quick drag on his cigarette, only to spit on the ground, still shaking a bit.

"The old fuck?" he said, half growling, half snorting once. " He's te best example. It doesn't matter if he was just old and demented and crazy or that maybe he might not have pulled it through or what fucking ever. He was a fuckin threat and I eliminated it. No more talking and bargaining and no more forgiveness. Just a fucking blow ta his head and it's all done with. And now he's dead and we're all alive and happy and that's te way it should be. I mean, I didn't kill 'im ta feel strong or in control or shit like that. This isn't about me going psycho or killing fer te sake of killing. I'm doing this because I had like…call it a fuckin epiphany if ye must, when they killed Hershel and shot up te others. There's only one way ta not let this happen again. Not ta you, not ta Murph" he said, looking at Daryl with a determined look on his face.

"And that way is ta finally screw the old fucking rules and moral codes from now on. Boston is not gonna happen again. And Woodbury is not gonna happen again. _Never_ fucking again. And if that means that I gotta kill someone without remorse, then I'm gonna fuckin do it in a heartbeat now. And trust me, I got my shit together now more than I ever have ever since shit hit te fan."

"Do you?" Daryl asked, just staring, not really able to say anything after that. He just watched Connor smoke and nod, and after having brought the cigarette to his mouth for another time and lowering it again, Connor spoke once more, breathing out the smoke with his first word, once again nodding.

"Yeah. I mean, fuck, I understand that this looks and sounds _psycho,_ and I get that yer worried. But believe me, I still _know_ what's fuckin right and wrong. I understand that Murph did what he had ta do, when he ran inside that house ta help this woman and her child. I know that it is right and that this is what we should do as human beings. It's not like I'm gonna go out there and just start killing random people fer kicks, don't be fuckin stupid. I never did and never will" he said and looked at Daryl once again.

"But I'm telling ye right now, if it's our survival or some old rules and humanity, I'm gonna fuckin choose our survival. I _will_ kill people and I _will_ let people get killed if our or our friends' lives are at stake. Anything else is just not fuckin worth losing yer friends and loved ones fer. And if ye and Murph don't get that, then I'm sorry, but I just don't fucking care cos I'm gonna keep going like that from now on. This isn't about winning the fuckin nobel prize or dying like some fucking superhero. It's about survival and keepin yer fuckin family safe now."

"Just don't wanna wake up one day facing the muzzle of yah gun" Daryl growled, a bit angrily because he still worried, maybe now more than ever. He understood where Connor was coming from, but he still worried.

"Shut it, don't be ridiculous. I told ye, 'm not a murderous psycho, alright. There's still a clear black and white here" Connor answered, shooting Daryl an offended glare. They fell quiet for a while then once more, until the Irishman spoke up for a final time, softer this time. "Can we please stop talkin about this shit now 'n relax? I don' wanna keep fuckin arguing with ye all te time. 's over and done with. I wanna get past this shit. Let's just get ta Terminus and start over, okay?"

Daryl looked at his friend, studied his face a little, until he looked straight ahead.

"I think what yah just need is t'smoke a buncha more cigs n'chill" Daryl muttered, accepting the peace offering. Connor snorted and did as he was told, smoking some more. Daryl waited for him to put the cigarette in his mouth to pull, and when his friend was busy doing just that, the hunter went on, all serious, still looking straight ahead. "That, and yah obviously just gotta get laid."

And maybe he reached back a little, feeling his backpack, the spot where he knew he'd put the stuff from the shop earlier.  
Connor breathed in the wrong way and started coughing, which made Daryl smirk almost mischievously.

"And ye obviously don't, considering…how yer getting fuckin cockier every single time" Connor coughed, looking at Daryl, maybe a bit in disbelief because he was still way too used to Daryl's virgin behavior, not this. But there was something about his friend during moments like this, when he could turn into an almost deadly serious but at the same time innocent flirt, that took the Irishman completely off-guard.

"Yer right. Maybe I just gotta fuck somebody, thank god there's a pair of tits among us now" Connor added after a moment, turning around to look at Samantha, who was still talking and laughing with Murphy, looking at the younger MacManus at all times, obviously very happy to be around him. She was completely ignoring Connor and Daryl, making it obvious that she had no interest in them whatsoever. Be it because of the shared past she already had with Murphy, or because she liked him more in general.

Connor did not care either. Of course he didn't. Well, maybe he was a bit jealous, but not of Murphy but of her because he deeply loved his brother and had always hated to share him with anyone, but it was different now, different because Daryl was with him. It was really really obvious now and Connor knew it. Had known it for a while now, maybe, deep inside. He kept the act up just to tease Daryl, but deep deep down he knew that he didn't want to start anything with Samantha, or any other woman right now.

Sure, he thought women were beautiful. He desired most of them because of the way they looked and were. Back in the old days, he had enjoyed having sex with women, rather much, actually. He knew that he could probably have sex with Samantha, too, if there was a suggestion or an idea or a motion, but not because of some feelings or anything deep. No relationship. No marriage. Nothing real. And the truth was that maybe he'd rather talk to her instead, get to know her, ask her what she'd done before the apocalypse, ask her about her family and work, anything that wasn't even connected to sex or any of the usual woman-man business their old world had always dictated.

It was really obvious and he knew that she had no interest in him but Murphy, and he knew that he had no interest in her or having sex with her either, at all, for that matter. Seeing her as sexual or romantic object, anything other than a friend and normal human being, was of no interest to him because there _were_ some feelings and there _was_ something deep now, with someone else and not her. Something he'd never had, and that was there because of the man right next to him. The man he wanted to tease just for the fun of it, the man he wanted to sound all macho in front of, just because they both knew that the exact opposite was going on.

"Pair of tits that obviously wanna shake it up with yah bro" Daryl said, teasing right back, seeing right through it.

"Aye. And remember, we're twins. Threesome's on te way. And yer not invited. Ha" Connor said, laughing and nudging Daryl. "'s okay, she probably knows yer gay anyway."

"I ain't freakin gay, yah the faggot slimebag" Daryl growled angrily, shoving Connor away a bit, but maybe he was using the motion to quickly hold his friend for a moment, be close to him, initiate body contact. "And don't ye love that" Connor teased, giving in to a dirty and deep little laugh. Maybe Daryl blushed a little, but he quickly tried to shake it off, just shoving Connor once more as he quickly tried to walk ahead, adjusting his crossbow.

"Stop" he growled, which just made Connor chuckle behind him a bit more.

"Oh come on, I was just getting started" the Irishman said, still laughing at his friend's behavior.

"Fuck you" Daryl growled in front of Connor, and the Irishman couldn't see it, but the hunter was smirking a bit.

"Aye, I know ye wanna."

"Shut up" Daryl said, but his voice gave it away that he was grinning and trying hard not to laugh.

* * *

The evening was actually rather calming, enjoyable. Connor didn't exactly want to admit it, but it was well true that Samantha and her child were actually doing them some good. He had tried to stay rational and maybe a bit skeptical at first, because he still believed that they were a burden, too, that it was going to be even harder feeding them all with an infant in their midst, but it was exactly that infant and her mother who had a positive effect on all of them.

Samantha was singing a bit. Not just to calm her child down and make her fall asleep, but also just in general, to make the whole campfire atmosphere that much more enjoyable. If she wasn't singing she was talking to Murphy, but now to Daryl and sometimes even him, too, chitchatting about the most random things that had happened, both before and after the turning.

Connor was half lying next to the campfire, the flames illuminating his bruised face against the black and dark forest around them. A bruised face that was healing up slowly, but still looking rather handsome, that, and just plain tired. But he was still actually smiling and just watching Samantha, Suzie and his brother, who was looking at him every now and then, smiling affectionately, happily, returning the stare like a loving and grateful brother.

Now that they had eaten some of the supplies they had found in Brooks and now that they were actually resting and just enjoying the night, Connor actually did feel better and better. Maybe Daryl was somewhat right. Maybe he should take a moment and just get himself together again, focus on the good as well, not just the bad. He'd been a whole lot better at this, before the outbreak. Their life had never been that much different. They'd always been running, always fearing for their lives, they had always been surrounded by bad and dangerous people, had always killed these people.

But they'd had their balance back in the old days, with pubs and friends and drinking and just their plain being together.

And getting some of that back with Samantha now, certainly helped.

Murphy helped. Just like always. Because he was the best example of optimism. Murphy had probably been through way worse with the headshot and all the things he had told him about Boston. What those things had left behind was clearly visible on him, the large scar on his forehead, his problems with movement and reading and seeing, the ugly deep scar from the bite on his shoulder, everything else.

But Murphy was nowhere near being crushed or broken. He had his problems, had made them obvious during the past couple of weeks, but the good clearly outweighed the bad with him. And that was getting more and more obvious with each passing day that they spent together, as a group, as a family. Murphy was still his ray of sunshine, his rock that had been missing for almost a year, but who was back now. Connor just smiled a little more, smiled at Murphy and then at the little girl who was slowly falling asleep in her mother's arms, and then he looked at Daryl, who was watching Murphy and Samantha, too.

And of course.  
Daryl helped a lot, too.  
Had done it for so many months now.

_Maybe yah just gotta believe._

Connor chuckled a little, quietly, remembering his friend's mocking words, and when Daryl looked at him because of that, the Irishman stared right back at him, across the campfire, with a warm smile, giving him a nod.

_It's alright._

Maybe, in the end, talking about it had helped, too. He wasn't going to take anything back, wasn't going to rethink anything either. He stood by his words, everything he had told Daryl today. His new agenda, his new rules. Just maybe…he was willing to drop the grumpy act a bit. Daryl smiled back.

"All right, fellas. 'm gonna go crash fer te night. Sleep a couple of hours, do the early morning watch shift" Connor said as he got up, sorting his clothes.  
Murphy nodded and reached out to touch and pat him a little when Connor passed him. He watched him walk around the campfire, but not after having looked at Daryl first.

"Aye, 'm gonna do the first shift" Murphy said, giving Daryl a little nod again.

Connor nodded and rubbed his hands a little together to get them to warm up because they were still cold, oblivious to the new silent way of communication that had developed between his brother and friend, behind his back, because of him. He looked at Samantha and her daughter in the meantime, pointing at one of the two tents.

"Tha one's all yers. Murph'n I are gonna take turns sleepin. This way, ye don't have ta sleep next ta some random guy. Murph snores and Daryl's clingy, we can't have that then, can we" he told her. Murphy threw a bunch of thin branches at Connor with a lazy "Fuck ye, I don't snore". Daryl just snorted and turned his head a little to watch Connor head for the tent.

"As a matter of fact, you do snore. I remember that" Samantha said with a little chuckle, once Connor had left, to engage Murphy in another conversation. Murphy laughed a little and shook his head, looking at her with a gentle smile.

"Bullshit. I'd never do tha. 't was Keith."

Daryl just sat there for a while, watching them and listening to their talk without actually joining the conversation. He had nothing to add to that anyway because they were still talking about Boston and their time together at the reservoir, and if he was honest, Daryl was actually really getting the vibe that maybe, just maybe, there was quickly developing something between his lookalike and that woman.

It wasn't like he could blame them. Samantha was a very beautiful woman in her mid-twenties. Her best age. The only friend Murphy had left other than them, a person with a shared past, a person he didn't have to get to know, a person who wasn't a man. Back in the old days, Daryl would've been jealous. Jealous and angry by now. Because once again this was him not being able to get a girl interested in him, because just like always, there were other guys getting between him and a fragile attempt to hook up. But this time, he wasn't even jealous. Or angry. He had no desire to hook up with Samantha whatsoever, he didn't even wonder why Murphy could probably get it on and he couldn't, although they shared the same face.

No, this time, he was actually happy for the guy? Maybe there was even a tiny part of him that was proud of Murphy? That was a bit mischievous? Because he liked the kid now. Considered him pretty much his brother, too. He wanted him to be happy, maybe he also just wanted to keep him busy and away from Connor.

And Connor was exactly the point.  
Daryl wasn't jealous and angry and didn't crave anything Murphy had right now because he already had Connor.

The hunter tried not to smirk, but maybe he did a little, because that actually made him proud and happy.

Fuck the whole 'gay' aspect. He didn't have to feel left out and didn't have to feel jealous and lonely because he already had a relationship.

Ha.

He sat there a little while longer and cleaned his crossbow, cleaned the place up a bit, studied the map some, did anything to kill time just so it wouldn't be too obvious that he wanted to follow Connor, wanted to be in the tent with him. Daryl actually embraced how it got more and more obvious that Murphy and Sam wanted him gone, now that Suzie had fallen asleep and was tucked away safely inside the other tent, now that they could be alone if only he was gone. Murphy shot Daryl a little glare after a while. One that was both impatient, but also a little bit mischievous and content and happy at the same time. Daryl let out a little gentle snort and shook his head, pretending that it annoyed him how he had to leave now, because Murphy's glare cleary indicated that.

Of course he wasn't annoyed. He wanted to goddamn cheer because he finally had his good excuse to go inside Connor's tent.

"Alright. 'm done for t'night. Don't fuck this nightshift up, M" he said, and maybe he thought about giving Murphy a mischievous wink. But of course, he wouldn't. He pretended to be his usual grumpy annoyed 'redneck' self. Murphy gave him a ver empathetic middle finger. Daryl didn't waste any time on actually listening to what Murphy had to answer along with it, he simply knelt down to crawl inside the tent that was already occupied by Connor.

* * *

He wasn't surprised to see that his friend was still awake. Lying there, all wrapped up in blankets and an old sleeping bag, but lazily leafing through one of the magazines Daryl had brought from the shop. It was Connor's usual evening ritual anyway, to get his mind to stop rattling, a little bit of easy distraction material before he could actually catch some sleep. Connor looked up for a moment and then moved to the side, a little smirk soon crossing his face.

"Damn, I thought this was gonna be a lovely visit from our latest addition, where she was finally gonna admit her deep love fer dashing me. Not yer ugly face" Connor greeted his friend, which made Daryl snort. The hunter got rid of his shoes and then lay down next to Connor, on his back, arm soon tugged under his head.

"Yeah, sorry t'disappoint leprechaun, but looks like emokid already got no more reason t'be emo tonight."

Connor lowered the magazine a little, to try and have a little look outside. They could only see silhouettes by the campfire, but they couldn't make out what they were doing, and they couldn't hear what they were saying either.

"Yer shitting me" Connor said, faking disbelief, although he'd thought the same already anyway.

"Nope" Daryl said and took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling, but then he just smirked. "Well, the chick asked for a threesome cos we got the same face 'n all, didn't wanna invite yah. 'm supposed t'join 'em in their tent later, when yah ass's asleep."

"Pffffffff" Connor said and put his magazine away to give Daryl his infamous ' _yeah sure, in what universe_ ' look. Daryl just smirked a little more but wouldn't say anything, staring at the ceiling. He actually waited for Connor to make a move for quite a while, getting lost in thoughts and waiting for his body to warm up, now that he was wrapped in blankets, too. He waited for Connor to maybe say something, find a good and cheesy line to get to the next part, to maybe initiate something of their own, but when he finally turned his head to see what was going on, he was actually surprised to see that his friend had fallen asleep.

Daryl raised an eyebrow a little, taken aback and maybe a bit disappointed and offended to see that Connor had just fallen asleep without telling him that he'd intended to do that, but here he was, sound asleep, lying on his side, at least facing him. "Guess I can join that damned threesome now" Daryl muttered after a moment, talking to himself, only to snort once and shake his head.

Oh well.

He turned his head after a moment once again, to look at Connor, to watch his friend sleep.

Daryl let out a little sigh and killed the light after a while, only to turn on his side, move closer to Connor, and close his eyes as well.

* * *

He woke up in the middle of the night, to the gentle shuffling of a sleeping bag right next to him. Daryl shifted a bit as well, tiredly, with a little yawn, as he opened his eyes to see what was going on. He startled a bit when he saw an equally sleepy Connor blink right back at him, almost right in front of his face because at some point, they had ended up getting all tangled up under the blankets, close to each other. It had happened almost subconsciously, like it was still deeply embedded in their minds to do this as soon as they were lying inside a tent, but much in contrast to their farm days, Daryl would no longer fight it or punch Connor for it, quite the opposite, he moved even closer.

His sleepy state made it easier to cross that little border of his usual embarrassment, shyness and shame, he just leaned in and kissed Connor almost lazily, still half asleep, but using their closeness and this opportunity to pull his earlier attempts through. He'd been thinking about it for a couple of days now, had gotten needier for it with each passing day, and maybe he welcomed that near now, let it pull him in, let him get over himself.

Connor let out a little tired but almost desperate gentle moan and just moved closer as well, still half asleep, but not exactly minding the invitation either. The truth was that he'd been thinking about doing it, too, before falling asleep, because of his jealousy and Daryl's earlier suggestion. He knew that if he gave in too much now he was just going to fall asleep yet again because he was so tired, but at the same time, he embraced exactly that. Because it made it that much sweeter, and so much calmer than their usual coupling. They got a bit more heated the longer the kissing went on, but it still wasn't as aggressive as usual, quite the opposite.

Soon there was some more touching and stroking involved, until it was Daryl once again, who couldn't wait, who had to hurry, who moved his hands down Connor's thin but at the same time muscular stomach to reach inside his pants, to open the belt and fly right there, which made his friend break the kiss for a short moment so he could throw his head back a little and let out a shaky aroused gasp.

Daryl still remembered his friend's latest statement, after what had happened on the farm less than a week ago. And maybe he still feared that way too much, didn't want that, Connor fucking him this time, his mind spinning a bit because he was equally needy when Connor reached between his legs too, to knead him through his jeans, rubbing and squeezing and cupping a little. The hunter quickly decided to go ahead, capturing his friend's lips once again to kiss him heatedly as he pulled the jeans and briefs down to get to the flesh, so he could wrap a hand around him and not let go before he was finished.

He didn't just decide to jerk Connor off because he wanted to keep him from topping this time, because he wasn't ready yet. He also decided to do it because he thought that his friend could use it, that it could do him some good. That it could get him to calm down, to ease up and relax and stop freaking out, getting worse, or whatever the hell was going on with him these days. He kissed Connor some more, sweating already from their closeness and breathing against each other's skin. He also intertwined their legs a little more, to make it harder for his friend to try and flip them somehow, to make it the proper deal before he was finished.

There was going to be no debate about the fact that he was going to fuck _him_ tonight, though. They'd gone there once, and Daryl wanted to do that again, actually wanted to do it every time now, whenever it got to that. He was fed up with the mutual jerking each other off and letting go right after it part, which was why he tried to deny Connor all the touching him in return, this was just about getting Connor off before everything else.

Their breathing got more labored and especially Connor was getting a bit louder pretty soon, as he trusted some more into the hand and started shaking, grabbing and scratching a bit, which just spurred Daryl on even more. He wrapped his hand a bit tighter around Connor's dick and twisted some more, all the while trying to pick up sped, and then his friend was suddenly coming with a little jerk and shout, which he tried to compensate by moving closer to Daryl and almost tackling him into a clingy, shaky hug.

Daryl smirked a little and kept moving his hand a little longer, slower this time, as he listened to Connor breathe into his neck, catching breath there, relaxing, sated at last. Daryl took a deep and shaky breath right then and there, too, because he was still far from finished, but right now he was actually quite happy, too. He started kissing and maybe biting at Connor's neck and shoulder a little, gently, massaging it with his teeth, as he let him cling and get through his orgasm, and that blissful state right after it.

His kissing and being closer to Connor finally really made him realize how their annoying their clothes really were, so he actually moved his hands up some right then and there, digging them underneath Connor's shirt so he could pull it above his head. The Irishman interrupted their hugging and kissing to get a little bit of distance between them, not just so Daryl could pull his shirt over his head, but also so he could give him a deep and heated look.

Daryl snorted a little because of the way his friend looked with his dirty and sweaty face and his hair that was pointing in every direction, but most importantly, because the look on Connor's face reminded him of some freakin porn material or something, but it didn't matter, because as soon as the shirt was gone, Connor already reached down on him again to open his jeans and belt, too.

Daryl tried to wriggle his hips away a little.

"Don't want yah t'jack me off" he muttered, and Connor immediately tried to shut him up.

"Ye did me, didn't ye, 's just fair play. Don' play fuckin hard t'get all te time"he grunted when Daryl moved away a bit, but then the hunter put a hand on his friend's chest to push him a bit.

"Wait up jackass" the hunter growled and looked his friend right in the eye, for a while, the both of them breathing hard, with Connor being a complete mess of lowered jeans and drying come on his belly, legs all tangled up in his jeans, and Daryl with a painfully obvious erection pretty much pointed right at his friend, making the necessity clear. Daryl chewed on his lips a little and tried hard not to blush, but it wasn't like it would be that visible anyway, considering the fact that his head was already red anyway, from the heat and effort.

"Don't laugh, al'right" the hunter growled and then suddenly got up a little, to move over to his bag. He could see Connor watch him with a little wary frown but then the Irishman was already busy getting rid of his jeans and briefs, which actually made Daryl look away again, so he could quickly and shakily search the bag until he finally found that little bottle and pack, losing grip of it not only once but actually twice in the nervous process. Daryl stilled for a moment, thinking hard, and then decided to just grab the bottle. His face was now actually alarmingly red as he shyly turned around and then threw the bottle at Connor, and that maybe a bit harder than necessary, almost hitting the Irishman in the face with it.

Daryl now hastily tried to avoid direct eye contact as he moved away from the bag and started to get closer to his friend.

"I..found…well" the hunter growled, once again slurring the words so it was almost impossible to understand him, and he immediately started scratching the back of his head with a nervous little frown. Connor looked at the bottle for a moment, picked it up, stared at the label, then looked up to face Daryl…

To start laughing.

"Oh fuckin screw yah" the hunter growled angrily and quickly turned away to lie down, close his eyes, and pretend that nothing had happened. Connor was still laughing behind him but it sounded like he was trying really hard to contain it, keep it down, a mixture of proper laughing and muffled snorting and snickering.

Daryl just kept his back turned on his friend and pretended that nothing had happened, anger and embarrassment boiling inside of him, not just because of Connor's laughing, but also because his erection was freaking killing him by now. _Fuck, that shit was so fucking unfair. He had made the fucker come, jerked him off, and now the asshole was freaking laughing at him. Fucker._  
  
Connor calmed down after a while but Daryl just kept lying there, folded hands tugged under his cheek as he stared at the side of the tent, angry with himself, and his friend. A few moments passed but then Connor eventually moved closer to him, even when Daryl snarled a warning "Fuck off". But the Irishman kept coming closer, wriggled a hand between his friend's arm and waist, to move it down like a snake, brushing gentle fingers over his still clothed belly, moving lower and lower towards the erection that still tented the jeans right there.

"'m not laughin anymore, alright" the Irishman said, but his strained voice gave it away, that he was still fighting a fit of laughter.

"Fuck off" Daryl repeated, but he wouldn't quite fight the hand, because _Jesus fuckin Christ was he close_. Connor tried to kiss his friend's neck, where his collar bone was, breathing hot against it but Daryl just wriggled away again, until his friend no longer saw it as some sort of amusing foreplay, but actually as something annoying.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, Daryl. I laughed because ye surprised me with dat shit, all right. I just didn' see that one comin, doesn't mean I was fuckin laughing _at_ ye….Maybe just a little bit" Connor said, laughing, but quickly trying to muffle it when Daryl gave him another "Fuck you."

Then, the hunter wouldn't say anything anymore. Although he was no longer that angry with Connor he actually just didn't know what he should do or say, because it was still a bit embarrassing. Their sleepy state from their kissing earlier was long since gone, they and most importantly he was wide enough awake again to have his usual doubts.

"If ye don't want me ta jerk ye off but want me ta fuck ye instead, you could've just said. I thought we're past that schtick now. We're not fuckin teenagers or some shit. So fuck it. It's okay, man."

"I don't want yah t'fuck me, jackass. Why'd yah I think I jerked yah off" Daryl snarled right back and turned his head for a short moment, to give his friend a long but quiet stare. Then he just turned away again.

"I wouldn't fuckin hurt ye, y'know" Connor said after a while, licking his lips, but sounding surprisingly gentle and most of all honest. Daryl shifted a little, ducking his head a little more. "Yeah, I don't care and it don't matter" he said after a moment, breathing in. "Yah know why" he added, after a while.

Connor took a deep breath and just stared at his friend for a while, his back that was slightly moving with each breath that he took. Then he quickly moved his hand across his face, down, only to move it up, through his strands of blonde hair that had gotten a bit darker now that summer had passed. Connor then shot a little look at the bottle that now lay half buried under his blankets, trapped somewhere between them, staring down on himself a little bit.

Nah.

It wasn't like he could do it right now anyway. He didn't even really want to right now, if he was honest, too.  
He was satisfied and he felt comfortable and most certainly relaxed right now. One thing he couldn't exactly say about his friend.

And fuck it.

Connor snorted once, gently, shaking his head.

 _Stupid Daryl and all the quiet and secret shit he always did, always tried to cover up._ The Irishman slowly and discretely reached for the bottle, opened it up and coughed once to cover up the sound it made with the opening, then, he slowly and carefully slicked his hand up a little.  
 __  
Fuck fuck fuck it.  
At least the fucker had thought ahead this time.

Daryl just lay there and suddenly felt a bit of a mixture of anger and sadness, because just as always, an almost sweet and normal moment of just being together had been destroyed between them, because of his foolish stupidity, and because of Connor's general asshole behavior.

That fucker Murphy certainly had to have it easier out there right now.  
With a woman. Being himself. His stupid Irish self with his fuck it attitude.  
Being that much different than him, no matter how much they looked alike.

The hunter startled and jerked a bit when Connor suddenly moved really close to him, wrapped an arm around his hip once more and then reached between his legs, snaking a hand inside his jeans, feeling cold and most of all shockingly _slippery_. He couldn't hold back the surprised gasp that escaped his mouth. He almost immediately turned his head to shoot his friend a look, but then Connor was already and suddenly kissing him to shut him up, making him turn properly on his back so he could gain better access. He used his other clean hand to clumsily open Daryl's jeans, and after a moment of holding and stroking his friend's naked lower back Daryl finally reached down as well to help him get rid of the clothes.

He was grateful that Connor would no longer say anything, would no longer laugh or even smile, he was actually giving him that look again, that heated look that meant that something was about to happen. It didn't take long and Daryl's jeans came off, and maybe he let out another little groan because Connor was still touching him, slowly, almost leisurely as he continued to slick him up, jerk him off with slow, lazy motions.

The hunter almost wanted to go mad from that right then and there, because he was incredibly on edge already, and because the feel of lube against his skin was so unfamiliar and yet freaking _good_. And when Connor reached for the bottle for a second time he even jerked a little bit, in his hand, in sheer anticipation.

They looked at each other once more but then Daryl quickly reached for his other layers of clothing that still covered the rest of his body, the leather vest, the jacket, and the two shirts. Connor used the time his friend was busy to quickly and awkwardly try to somewhat prep himself when he wasn't looking, because there was no way in hell he was going to endure that freaking slow and burning drag from last time again.

Their breathing had gotten more labored again by now, and an occasional loud gasp or gentle groan escaped their mouths, and when Daryl was finally and properly undressed, he could no longer bear it. Connor's continuous slippery touch on his dick had already nearly managed to get him off when he'd been busy getting undressed, something he certainly did not want, not when he was so close to getting what he truly wanted instead.

As soon as he was undressed he quickly moved up a little and tried to flip them, quickly spinning him around so he could press Connor back into the blankets and sleeping bag, face down, flat on his stomach. His breathing was ragged by now as he once again found himself facing his friend's back tattoo, his suntanned skin and the fainted bruises and healing cuts from his capture.

For a moment, he actually just placed a hand on his friend's behind and took a couple of deep breaths, enjoying the touch, the closeness, the feel of bare skin against bare skin, his mind spinning from the anticipation, lust and lack of blood in his head. Then he eventually and almost shakily reached for the bottle that Connor still held in his hand, clutching to it with sweaty and slick fingers.

He'd never really done this sort of thing before, with the lube at least, but his mind had already drifted so far off that he no longer even had the time to feel embarrassed. He simply squirted some more of it on his hand, to slick himself up some more with a shiver, and then, a bit more shyly this time, Connor, too, ( _and what the fuck was he really supposed to do there, anyway? How the fuck did this shit work? The downside of being anti gay before the apocalypse, he didn't know shit about it, fuck_ ) until he could no longer bear it and simply decided to go ahead and enter instead.

Connor immediately let a little grunt out again, but that one slowly turned into a somewhat award groan, because during this second time, he was already prepared for the little bit of pain right then and there. The lube certainly made it easier, and both men really started to wonder how the fuck they had managed to pull it through without it the first time.

Daryl still had a hard time keeping it together, to keep himself from just mindlessly and harshly thrusting into his friend, giving him the time he needed to adjust and calm down, although it was rather hard to do so, considering the fact that he was so close already. And it was exactly that that made Daryl still the moment he fully slipped inside, staying right where he was with his mouth formed to a shocked "o", eyes closed and shivering, hip pressed to Connor's. Collecting himself and keeping it together without any movement, just so he wouldn't come too early again.

Connor wriggled his hips after a moment, maybe because he was uncomfortable or just because he wanted his friend to get moving, and when he finally did get going, Connor immediately let out yet another half-grunt half moan. Daryl moaned once as well and then fully lay down on top of his friend, quickly grabbing a blanket to somewhat cover them, all the while thrusting in a steady, careful and almost shy rhythm.

He once again found himself getting rather overwhelmed by his emotions as he continuously dove into his friend, because this time it was even more intimate, not in some old bathroom in front of a dirty sink, not in an awkward standing position, no this was them right here, practically in a freaking bed, properly fucking with no more boundaries, no more doubts, no more nothing.

Just the normal, natural deed itself, just…loving.

Daryl thrusted a couple more times but then suddenly let himself slip out during the last thrust, quickly wiping his wet and stringy hair out of his eyes with a shaky deep breath because this still wasn't quite freaking right yet.

"Turn 'round man" he muttered, surprised at the sound of his own voice because it was rather deep and shaky.

"What?" Connor asked, equally out of breath, a confused and little annoyed look on his face because of the sudden interruption.  
When he turned around Daryl could see that his friend was half hard already again, a sight that maybe made him smirk a bit.

_So much for not being freaking gay. Ha. As if._

Instead of answering, he simply grabbed Connor by his shoulder and manhandled him a bit to get him to turn around, on his back, to face him, and for a moment, no matter how hard that was, Daryl actually stilled and just looked down at his friend, looked at his heated face, messy hair, the sweat everywhere. It was still a rare sight to see Connor completely beside himself, all honest, raw, and emotional. He was usually calm and overthinking or brutal and laughing, but never like this, he hardly truly let himself go and just be.

But this was one of these moments right here and Daryl almost wanted to grin because he knew it was because of _him_ , finally, that this was someone letting themselves fall apart and be vulnerable because of him. He dove down a little to kiss his friend again, making Connor return the favor a bit more heatedly as he immediately dug his fingers into Daryl's raven-black and sweaty hair to keep him there. To pull, maybe hurt a bit, but not too much. The hunter used the time to thrust and enter again, making Connor grunt and then moan into his mouth, then, they made it the proper deal.

Connor knew that he was probably going to punch himself for this later, maybe run against a tree or something because this was so stupid and damn freaking _girly,_ but here he was, just clinging to his friend's sweaty and naked body on top of him, pressing a hand to his ass and maybe digging his fingers into the skin of his cheek to pull him in closer, pull him in deeper, and maybe he rubbed his hairy dirty legs against a pair of equally hairy and dirty legs, _manly_ legs, fuck, but right now he didn't care about that, he just needed the near, needed the heat, needed the tension and sweat and movement.

Daryl had wrapped both his arms tightly around him, tugged them under his armpits, around his shoulders and locked him there in an almost clingy way, to hold him tight and support his thrusting motions, making them a bit harder, a bit harsher, a bit more abrupt each time, trying to get deeper. He looked up after a moment, too, so he could check if everything was alright, if his stupid, embarrassing lube idea had been a good one, and he was actually surprised to see that Connor seemed to freaking _enjoy_ it. He let out a single breathy little laugh because he couldn't quite believe that shit, but it was well true. Connor was clinging to him, with a look on his face that spoke volumes.

And maybe Daryl truly did no longer care either, which was why he dipped his head down again to lock them in a kiss once more, diving in deeper, thrusting a bit harsher, gaining a little more momentum, drawing some ragged little sounds out of Connor, into his mouth. And it didn't take long until he could feel a hot and throbbing erection nudge him in his lower stomach, moving with each thrust. He'd noticed it a little while ago, how a certain angle and a certain way of thrusting seemed to make Connor jerk and moan a little every time he did it right, although it was a bit hard to get it right, but it seemed to be just that that was slowly getting Connor off again, and right now, only that mattered.

It soon turned into a competition again, and at first, this one only consisted of denying Connor to reach between them so he could jerk himself off to help. Maybe Daryl just did that to tease and annoy his friend at first, but at the same time, to make it better, and when Connor slowly but carefully started to complain and curse, he eventually gave in and reached between them himself instead, to touch his friend again, to move the hand in the same rhythm as his thrusts.

From then on, everything got pretty much faster, sticker, hotter, until the both of them knew that they could pretty much and undoubtedly be sure that if Murphy and Sam were still awake, they would notice, would hear.

Daryl was really surprised to see, hear and feel Connor come first, a short moment later, all suddenly and twitchy. The Irishman let out an exhausted and muffled shout, digging his fingers deeper into the skin of Daryl's ass, and it was that what then suddenly pulled an orgasm from the hunter, too, making the rhythm stutter, making him shake and shiver against his friend, spilling deep inside him. Then, they once again stilled, relaxed, collapsed into a heap of sated flesh. Their breathing evened out after a while, their bellies and chests moving against each other with each breath, sticking together from all the sweat and Connor's seed between them.

"You…fuckin killed me ye dick" Connor breathed after a moment, chest heaving, the back of his hand pressed to his sweaty forehead.

Daryl was still almost lazily clinging to his friend, too tired and done to bother pulling out just yet.

"Huh?" he just muttered, against his friend's sweaty chest.

"'m too old fer coming fuckin twice in less than half an hour…oh fuck."

Daryl just snorted once, even snickering a little because he didn't really care.

"Ain't my fault that yah get off on fagottry sex so much that yah gotta come twice" he teased, and Connor hit his back.

"Fuck ye."

"As a matter of fact, I just did" Daryl said, once again, and he soon found himself smirking.

He knew he'd probably hit himself later, too, because this was so stupid, but right now, he was in such an almost fuzzy state of being.  
Warm, relaxed state of being.  
Most importantly.  
Loving.

He moved his head a little, so he could lean forward, press his forehead to Connor's chest, right where his heart was. Breathing in and out. Calmly. Nuzzling his chest a little, gently. Connor looked down on himself right then and there, saw the black mop of hair all sprawled out on his chest, as they both fully allowed themselves to calm down and relax after the hard work. No matter how hard his friend had always fought it hid it. There was no hiding it right now, no matter how surprising that was, but it was still happening.

Daryl Dixon was a _cuddler._  
Holy fucking god.

Connor thought and snorted gently. For a moment he just let him lie there like that.  
He even moved a hand up a bit to place it on his side, on the first brushes of the tattoo there, to stroke it and return the gesture.

"If ye start fuckin purring now.." Connor eventually said, which made Daryl snort.

"Shut up, leprechaun. Tryin t'sleep" the hunter growled, shifting a little, finally pulling out.

Then, he eventually looked up at Connor, watched him, with a little thoughtful look on his face.  
Looking at him, for a very long while, with Connor staring right back. And he even let him comb and pet his stupid black hair for a bit. What the hell.

And maybe he decided to kiss him again.

 _Oh. Well, fuck. This still was a freaking chick-flick. Fuck._ Connor thought, but he still couldn't stop himself from lazily and lovingly returning the favor once more, kissing back, without any bad conscience about that. Yeah, Daryl _was_ acting like a freaking purring cat right now. And he was acting like the stupid cat owner who talked to it like it was a baby, making kissy faces and all that crap because he _loved_ said cat. The problem was just that he usually _hated_ cats. Because just like Daryl, those little fuckers were usually unpredictable. Ready to scratch you with their claws at any time. But it soon got obvious that Daryl certainly _didn't_ have his usual claws out today.

Connor frowned a little when he could clearly hear and feel Daryl mumble something short into his mouth, during the kiss, with a little stroking motion of his thumb against his arm, but when the Irishman interrupted the kiss to give him a tired and confused little "What?" Daryl would just look at him for a moment, only to shake his head and get off of him.

"Nothin."

Daryl took a deep breath and then used a corner of one of their blankets to wipe off, lost in thoughts as he got dressed again. He thought about it during the whole process of getting dressed and lying down, being more and more glad that Connor had failed to understand him, that he had picked the exact right moment to muffle the only time he had allowed himself to tell his friend that he thought he freaking _loved_ him.

They fell asleep soon after, no longer tangled up, but staying close to each other still, facing each other, still together, just like any other time.


	37. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! New chapter.
> 
> First of all, I got the news for the future of this series. I'm mostly certain that I am going to end this fic with its 39th chapter, with them getting to or getting close to Terminus. After that I will end this fic and start a new, most definitely FINAL one, a fic that will cover only the first half of the fifth season. I think I came up with a definite ending to this series involving the hospital storyline but once again altered, so there's that. There's only a bit of character and relationship development I got left for Connaryl and I want to address that, all the while being aware of the fact that this series is starting to drag and should come to a conclusion after almost one million words and more than 200 chapters.
> 
> It's been a blast writing on this series for three years and receiving the incredible amount of feedback I have received, growing as a writer, growing with those characters and their relationship. But this is the official word from me. I am going to end the series with season 5 episode 9, in a new shorter fic, the usual way, with many alterations.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the last bunch of chapters.  
> Also this chapter got some more lovey-dovey Connaryl. Me gusta. But more brutal Connaryl is on its way, too!

The arrow hit the rabbit in the exact precise spot it had been aimed for, leaving the animal intact and not spoiled, in perfect condition to be skinned, prepared and cooked. Connor smirked contentedly and lowered his friend's crossbow. When he turned his head a little to look at Daryl, the smirk only grew wider, cockier, since he was obviously pleased with himself.

"Bulls eye. Ha. I don' even fuckin need ye anymore" Connor said, placing a hand on the hunter's arm when he tried to pass him to get their prey.

"As if. That was a lucky hit, don't get all high 'n mighty" the hunter retorted and tried to get past his friend, but Connor kept him locked in place with a little chuckle, handing him the crossbow back, only to lean in and steal a kiss, one that still couldn't keep him from grinning. Daryl was a little bit grumpy but soon relaxed, kissing back, maybe even smiling a bit, too. Affection and warmth growing inside of him.

"It woulda been a lucky hit if I hadn't shot two fuckin animals more than ye did today" Connor said, the moment they parted, still grinning.  
"I fuckin wi-hin the American's Next Redneck Hunter award. Daryl D's yesterday's news, knocked right off the throne. _Boom._ Ha. King me fram now on."

"Pfffff. Ain't no way potato eatin leprechaun dumbasses earn that title. Now knock it off jackass, this ain't a game" the hunter muttered as he finally walked over to the shot animal to pick it up and then tie it to the other game they had already shot on their little hunt to keep them all fed on their way to Terminus.

"We should probably head back. I think we shot enough fer taday. If we shoot 'n find more, 's just gonna be too much and we end up losing it ta maggots and flies anyway" Connor said and kept watch in the meantime. "What I'd do fer a fuckin fridge, man" he added and let out a little sigh, his stomach growling with hunger once again.

"Well, whoever these guys at this Terminus place are, gotta have something to make their food last."

"Aye, _if_ they are friendly, _if_ they wanna share and _if_ they're still there."

"Leprechaun."

"Whatever" the Irishman muttered and let out a little sigh, turning around to get going now that his friend was finished.

Daryl caught up with him and placed a gentle hand on Connor's lower back, stroking it a bit.

"Ain't nothing we ain't gonna be able t'handle. Survived loads of shit before, gonna survive future shit, too."

"Yeah" Connor muttered, musing a bit.

It was quiet for a while, as the both of them roamed through the woods, shuffling through orange leaves in the bright yellow autumn light.

"I really want tha shit ta work out" Connor suddenly said, still thinking. "I really do" he muttered, and Daryl gave him a weak little smile. "But at te same time, I also kinda don't" the Irishman then admitted, which made his friend frown. "I mean, if it works out, then what. We got food and shelter and got four walls and a roof above our heads for the winter, but the other parts are not exactly gonna get any easier….I mean, if ye don't count the hunger and te cold…I kinda enjoy keeping ta ourselves. 's simpler."

Daryl kept frowning, chewing on his lips at first, but then the hunter eventually spoke it out.

"Yah talkin 'bout what I think ya talking about?"

"Well, it kinda depends on what yer thinking then, Mr redneck Holmes."

Daryl growled a little and looked at the ground, struggling in his mind at first because he was still shy about it, but he did speak it out anyway.

"Us?" he said, quietly, and Connor just looked at him, only to turn his head and look straight ahead again.

"Well, duh."

Daryl smirked a little and still looked down.

"It ain't about just fuckin no more, is it" he even dared to say after a while, which made Connor snort and stop walking for a moment. Daryl slowed down and then stopped, too, turning around to look at his friend. Connor eyed him for a while and then let out a little huff, only to use both his hands to nervously search his layers of clothing for some cigarettes, only to remember that the three of them had smoked all of them, cursing a little. He chewed on his lower lip and then pressed his lips together, until he talked again because he could see that Daryl was waiting for him to go on.

"Alright, enough of te sugar coating it. I think we both know pretty well now tha there's…" he took a deep breath and sucked his lower lip in again. "I fuckin love ye,too, alright" he said and Daryl raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I do. Like a brother, like a best friend…like a stupid fuckin redneck everybody should kinda have fer entertainment value…"

"Screw yah" the hunter immediately said with a little angry frown.

"…and _maybe_ in a more than ' _just fuckin'_ kinda way, _**but**_ …" he immediately said when he saw Daryl smirk and just knew that his friend was about to mock him for that. "I just don't wanna make that big of a deal of it in front of other people, other guys, cos I still think 's questionable, alright."

Daryl just stood and listened.

"And if we get back there, there's obviously gonna be more people again, and maybe I don't really want that cos shit obviously changed between us.  
And it's easier and better now, te way it is _without_ the others."

Daryl, much to Connor's surprise, chuckled and gave his friend a little smile. Not just because maybe the previous statement secretly made him flail like a girl inside, but also because of the upcoming statement.

"So yah basically tryin t'talk M and gingerbread outta going there with gloomy 'everyone's evil' speeches cos you wanna stay in the closet."

"Fuck ye, who's te closet gay outta te two of us, a-hole. Yer te _definition_ of hiding in a fuckin closet. At least I got te balls ta speak it out, _unlike_ you two days ago" Connor said, immediately offended just the way Daryl had wanted him to be.

"Fuck you" the hunter snarled back, but then widened his eyes a little when he suddenly realized what Connor had said at the end of his sentence.

"Fuck _**you**_ " Connor said in the meantime, then the both of them eventually smirked a little.

Daryl shoved his friend a little to somewhat keep the 'argument' going, to seem angry and embarrassed and maybe he was a bit embarrassed, but the shoving back and forth was soon ended by another kiss, at least until the hunter ended that as well and started walking.

"Jesus, watch out, or yah might slip on the _cheesy_ slime everywhere. Good lord" the hunter growled and Connor cackled a little.

"Damn right, sprinkled with glitter."

The both of them had nearly managed to get out of the woods and back to the train tracks where Murphy, Samantha and Suzie were waiting, maybe slowing down a little bit so they could finish the topic properly.

"So you okay with this thing now? Despite what ya stupid god got t'say 'bout it?" Daryl said, getting more serious again.

Connor looked at him again, until he nodded a little, scratching the side of his neck to pick at the scab there.

"Kinda weird how strangely comfortable I am with this shit all of a sudden, but aye. Yes, I am. You?" the Irishman said and then looked at his friend, maybe a little nervously, but he still seemed to be very honest about it. "Me, too" Daryl admitted after a while, because it was well true. His homophobia and 'gay panic' had died off weeks ago. Now it was just what it was. And he wanted it now. Just appreciated it. And maybe it made him smirk a little bit once more, because now it kind of sounded like it was getting official. _They_ were getting official. And that much more adult about it. And maybe that felt really nice.

Connor chuckled a little at first and looked away, until he took a little breath and looked straight ahead again.  
Doing something that immediately destroyed Daryl's impression of 'adulthood'.

"As long as we don't like…admit our deep love sweet love fer each other now and…"

Daryl snorted.

"Fuck no."

"….ye start singing _Dido_ songs and light candles and buy flowers 'n shit like that and I have ta…"

"Leprechaun" Daryl immediately warned, but Connor ignored him and kept ranting and making jokes.

"…start holding hands running through golden cornfields and so on…"

" _Seriously_?"

Connor laughed, and so did Daryl with a frown.

"Where'd yah even get shit like that? Tough Irish fucker my ass. You're a sissy."

Connor just laughed a little more.

"What can I say, when yer pirating yer tv signal and only got like, three channels ta keep ye entertained and ye just wanna watch some movie and there's only chick flicks at hand, sometimes ye gotta do what ye gotta do and watch that shit. But hey, at least me and Murph made it a drinkin game. And there's yer entertainment."

"Yeah yeah, yah just liked it, admit it" Daryl said with a little snort, but before Connor got to answer they had already reached the rail tracks again, where Murphy and Samantha had been waiting. The moment the younger MacManus saw his brother he immediately sprung to his feet, scratching his nose nervously, and Connor immediately saw and knew that something was up. He finished his talk with Daryl first and stroked his arm a little, signaling some sort of goodbye for now, then he headed for Murphy while Daryl started talking to Samantha and her daughter.

"Ey Murph" Connor spoke up and gave his brother a little smile, although it was a worried one because it was getting more and more obvious that Murphy wanted to say something. "I shot us more animals than we can eat. No more going hungry. And I was even better than Daryl, ha" he immediately bragged, but Murphy didn't even seem to pay that much attention because he was continuously looking at Samantha, Suzie and Daryl. Connor frowned a little and then nudged his brother.

"Murph?"

"Aye.." Murphy said and then finally looked at his brother, once again scratching the side of his nose.  
"Listen, can I talk ta ye real quick, Con?"

Connor just frowned even more.

"Aye, sure, what is it?" he asked but huffed a little when Murphy suddenly grabbed him by his arm and then started to drag him away a bit from the others. They kept walking for a bit, Murphy lost in thoughts and Connor just looking at him, and when they were out of earshot it seemed, Murphy finally stopped and turned around, still all nervous and unsure, shooting Samantha little looks every once in a while, until he looked at Connor.

"D'ye and Daryl like….uhm…use stuff when ye…."

Connor frowned.

"What? Murph, what's wrong?" the older MacManus twin asked, reaching for his twin to grab him and stroke his arm soothingly. Murphy shook him off with an annoyed growl, looked at Samantha once again, then stared down at his feet, then he looked back up again, until he was obviously impatient enough, fed up with it.

"Oh Jesus Christ, d'ye use shit when ye fuck, and don' even deny it, I fuckin heard ye two days ago, alright."

Connor snorted in surprise, maybe even a bit embarrassed.

"What te fuck, Murph, I thought we agreed that we'd just pretend tha…"

"I don' even fuckin care what ye do with 'im anymore, Jesus fuckin Christ, if it makes ye happy, but I mean like…." he moved his hand a little, as if to make a small wave with it, once again looking at Connor, slightly red and embarrassed but at the same time angry because his stupid brother didn't seem to get it, although he was always all about 'I fucking know shit' and stuff like that.

But Connor just stood there, dumbfounded, giving him a confused frown. Murphy pressed his lips together, trying to keep calm although he just wanted to _yell it_ at Connor so he got it, but he wouldn't. Of course he wouldn't because then it would mean that…

"Do ye use _condoms_ , man. Fuck."

Connor snorted once more, shifting awkwardly, because this was exactly what he'd been talking about with Daryl minutes before. He was fine with the fact that they were somewhat together, loving each other, fucking each other and all that crap, but he didn't like to make it that big of a deal in front of people, especially since he still cared very much about his manliness and all.

"Do ye?" Murphy pressed angrily, and Connor turned around once to make sure no one was listening. But of course, no one was, so he turned around and hissed back.

"No. And why te fuck would ye care?"

"Fuck" Murphy huffed angrily and turned away a bit, kicking at the rail track, which just confused Connor even more.

"Why? Since when are ye so fucken interested in me sex life? I mean, I love ye, brother, and I do know that we're twins, but there are some things I'd rather not fuckin share with ye these days, especially since it's…"

"I almost slept with Sam last night, alright?!" Murphy whisper-shouted, and Connor fell quiet, looking at his brother in surprise.

Oh.  
 _Oh._

"I really like her, 'n I think she does, too…I mean she's lonely and she did te move on me and I…and then I was almost…and then…I don' wanna cause her any fucken trouble, okay. Not in this world. So I need…"

" _Ohhh_ …" Connor said, finally getting it. He quickly turned around to look at Samantha, only to start grinning.  
When he turned back around Murphy immediately noticed that grin, widening his eyes a little.

"Don't ye fucken…"

Connor laughed a little, then a little louder, until he reached out to put a hand on Murphy's healthy shoulder, kneading it, letting out a relieved sigh because he'd thought that this was going to be some super awkward conversation. For him at least, but now, since this obviously wasn't about him and Daryl or fucking gay sex but Murphy and the whole _hetero deal_ , he almost wanted to fucking cheer Hallelujah at the sky.

"Shut up, this isn't funny alright, I really fuckin like her and 'm not a dick like ye so don't…."

"Murph…. _Murph_ "

He laughed once more, making Murphy give him a death glare.

"Macho Murph…" Connor went on, giving in to yet another little chuckle, and when he felt his sibling tense, about to fight him off, he gave in.

"'s fuckin alright, okay? Ye coulda just said. Maybe we can make a little detour, hit another town, see if we can stock up on these kindsa supplies" he said, but he just had to chuckle once more. Not just because he was relieved it wasn't about him and Daryl, not just because angry, stubborn Murphy was so funny, but also because he was once again reminded that this was still old Murphy right in front of him, despite the headshot.

It reminded him of the first time this had happened, back in Ireland. When Murphy had first shown interest in a girl and fired questions at him nonstop, wondering, curious, impatient. _How'd you do it Con? How am I sappose t'do this? What if I do this wrong, what if she doesn' like me, what if…how…and when…and why?_ And him sitting right there, on his bed opposite Murphy, regretting his constant 'I know everything' bragging behavior in front of his twin simply because he actually didn't know shit, because he'd just done it _somehow_ with the girl.

"I don't want her ta see this shit, though. She'll just think I think of her as easy prey or shit like tha…"

Connor snorted.

"Trust me, Murph. _No one_ views ye as womanizer. Ye already said ye like her very much, didn'tche?"

Murphy, who had scowled at his brother because of the womanizer comment at first, visibly relaxed but also got a little more fidgety again.

"Well, yeah, kinda…I mean…I know 'er and she's…I like her, aye" Murphy said, looking at her.

Connor watched his sibling for a short moment, feeling both a ping of pride but also jealousy.  
Which he always did and always had whenever he had seen his brother with someone else. But in the end, pride won. And how freaking typical was that again. They really were twins. The moment he fell in love and found someone, Murphy had to find someone, too. Always together, always sharing the same emotions, the same history.

And he was really proud of his brother because he was so honestly good and considerate. He probably could've just slept with the girl last night. He was sure that his sibling wouldn't exactly mind a little release as well. But it wasn't just about him, it was also about her. Murphy didn't want to get her in trouble, didn't want to hurt her because that's the way he worked.

Connor smirked and chuckled a little.  
His baby brother. (Murphy would kill him if he heard the thought)  
Willing to hook up with someone, to love someone. Despite his past, despite his troubles.  
Still asking him for guidance, help.

"'m happy fer ye, Murph" he said, with that smile, which made Murphy look back at him. Connor turned his head a little to look at Samantha, Suzie and Daryl, only to look back at his brother. "God knows this world fucked shit up fer us real good…" He looked down. "And I fucked shit up fer ye even more when I…" he let out a little sigh, only to quickly look back up again. "But it's really nice ta hear that yer still doing good and that ye found someone ta keep ye happy."

"I was happy before we met her, y'know" Murphy muttered and Connor looked at his sibling, giving him a little smile which was returned almost immediately.  
Then Connor gave in to a grin.

"Now let's get going. We gotta find ye some condoms so ye can be eeeeven happier, ha" the older MacManus brother teased with a little chuckle and a pat to his sibling's back, which made Murphy chuckle a little. "And ye better wrap that shit up tight. I'm not helpin ye pay fer child support, Casanova" Connor kept teasing.

"Yer an ass" Murphy said, snorting.

But Murphy immediately felt more relaxed, now that the cat was out of the bag, and now that Connor was obviously on his side and understanding, not possessive and jealous at all. They parted when they got closer to their respective others, both had a little smirk on their faces, as Murphy walked over to Suzie to grab her and hold her, and Connor walked over to Daryl to share the news, simply because he _had_ to share with someone. He grinned at his friend and place a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer and away from the other two.

"Ye would not believe the shit we just talked about" he said, laughing once more. Daryl gave his friend a little curious frown and listened.

* * *

"No. fuckin. Way" Murphy said as they slowed down on the tracks, staring straight ahead in surprise, maybe even excitement.

"Yes fuckin way" Connor eventually said, turning his head to look at his brother, then his friend, and then Samantha and her kid.  
After that, he started grinning a little, grabbing his knife.

"Guess we found us a nice place ta crash fer the night."

"Well it already did crash, aye" Murphy said, observing the crashed form of the private jet in front of them, down the train tracks, a wreck whose nose was half buried in the ground, with its wings broken off, but the fuselage looked mostly intact. Whatever fire had burned during the crash had long since died off, maybe painting the broken wings a bit black, making parts of the air craft a little more prone to rust, but it didn't look too bad.

"Alright, Murph and I are gonna walk over there check fer walkers. Daryl, ye stay here keep an eye on Sam and Suzie" Connor commanded.

"I can watch my ass just fine, y'know. I managed before" Sam protested a little bit, but Connor just looked at her.

"Well Murph 'n I are immune and the two of ye are not. So the way I see it, there's no fuckin discussion there."

"Just keep an eye out while we're busy, in case another herd like te one we almost crossed paths with yesterday shows up again" Murphy immediately spoke up, sensing the coldness between Connor and Sam, then he proceeded to come closer and hug her, then kiss her daughter on her head, saying that he'd be back in no time and that they had a nice place to sleep in to look forward to.

Connor and Daryl watched them for a moment, then the Irishman walked over to his friend, smirking a little, eyes still fixed on the other two.

"Ye wanna kiss me goodbye, too, honeybunch?" the blonde said to his friend, coming closer, even making stupid kissy faces for the fun of it, simply because he didn't exactly think much of the whole sentimental stuff. Daryl snorted and moved away. "Fuck off" he said, waving a chuckling Connor off. Maybe he actually did want to do that. And maybe he considered it. It even looked like the Irishman dared him to do it. But he didn't. The both of them turned their heads so they could shoot another look at the wreckage instead.

"Yah think it's been there a while?" Daryl said, maybe moving closer to Connor, invading his personal space, feeling his body heat, at least trying to make somewhat of a statement in front of Sam and Murphy, too. Connor, all wrapped up in his thinking and planning space and unaware of the attempt, just nodded.

"Aye, there's grass and foliage growing all over tha wingtip, see? Besides, if it only just crashed a couple of days ago there'd be smoke and fire and heat and all" the Irishman pointed out. "This one's clean and shiny like a baby's arse after a diaper change."

The hunter looked at it, nodding, then frowning.

"Since when do yah know shit 'bout tracking and reading clues."

Connor turned his head and gave his friend a shining grin.

"Well, I learned from the best, didn' I, then."

And there it was again. The intense stare down, the heat, the brizzling air between them, the dare to lean in, give in. But they just stared at each other.  
Connor smirking and challenging, Daryl just frowning. He was just about to say something, but then Connor turned his head again.

"I mean me uncle taught me so many things in Ireland, it gotta pay off sooner or later…" he said, grinning even more.

And yet another punchline.

"Jackass" Daryl said, shoving his friend a little, but then quickly using the motion to touch him once again, caress him a little bit, inconspicuously. This cheeky motherfucker.

"Yo, leprechaun" he said after a moment though, getting more serious, when it got clear that Murphy was ready to go. Connor turned his head to look at his friend. "Watch your ass" he said, honestly, because he knew damn well about his friend's little thing for stupid spontaneous plans. But Connor just grinned even more.

"Cos yer gonna need it later, don'tche" he teased and nudged his friend back, who huffed a little and shook his head, but a tiny smirk did break through. "No, it's alright. I got it, brother" Connor assured him, patting Daryl's muscular chest and then stroking it. Then he turned around to nudge his sibling and get going.

* * *

The good part was that there was no old or fresh blood on any of the windows. Just the dirt, some foliage, some water and grime from the fire.  
Even now the whole place still kinda reeked like spilled kerosene, making it harder to smell any sort of decay both from rotting furniture, corpses or walkers.

The moment they reached the wreckage and started climbing up one of the broken wings Connor momentarily turned around once more to check on Daryl and Samantha, who were standing a bit further away from the wreckage, weapons ready, watching them cautiously. The Irishman gave his friend a little nod and then turned around to grab his brother by the back of his jeans, to pull him back and scuffle his way past him so he could get up first.

It did turned into a little brotherly scuffle over who got up first, there were a few elbows being shoved into stomachs and chins and there certainly were a couple of whisper-shouted curses, but in the end, just like always, Connor did win the fight, and Connor did enter the wreckage first.

It certainly was a bit dark. And it certainly was in a state of chaos. But strangely enough, there were no corpses, no walkers, not really, at least. Connor grabbed his knife tighter and then turned his head to look at Murphy, who looked back at him with an intense look on his face, the look he always had when he was busy and ready to kill. Deadly. On spot. Ready. Waiting for the strike, waiting to follow and execute the plan, under Connor's leadership.

Connor smirked a little, only just realizing that this was them working together again, as a team, as brothers, as killers and saints. He gave Murphy a little nod and then pointed at himself and then the cockpit to let Murphy know he was going to check that out, then he pointed at Murphy and towards the back of the crashed airplane, to make him understand that he was supposed to check the bathroom and kitchen.

Murphy nodded back, grabbed his own knife and did as he was told.

Connor felt a tiny ping of worry and watched his sibling a moment longer, swallowing hard to keep it together. No no no. They had talked about this. He trusted Murphy. His brother was tough as nails. He didn't need his 24hour protection anymore. He was immune, he was fine, and he could handle himself. And he was going to prove him that he trusted him with that. Connor grabbed his knife tighter and then turned around to finally get going, to head for the cockpit with his knife raised, slowly reaching for the swaying door that was just a tiny bit open.

And when he did open it, he wasn't exactly surprised to see that there was indeed a walker in there. The pilot. Still strapped to the chair. Turned. A while ago. The stench gave it away. But also the state of his skin. There was some old dried blood on the steering wheel and buttons, like he had hit his head or something. The walker did let out an occasional groan and turned his head at the creaking of the door the moment Connor entered, snarling at him, reaching out for him but then almost halting, staring right back at him, into his eyes, into his soul.

If the Irishman let him pull him in too much he was almost immediately back to that strange stage, that strange connection of feeling and the sound of voices, all the things that had started ever since that bite. Calling him, begging him, wailing like a madman, begging to be released, to get something to eat because he was _so_ _hungry, so dead and empty,_ _ **help meee**_ , _the voice sounding dry and croaking and inhuman and eyes growing wider and whiter and the blood flowing and the darkness calling and_ _ **help me, kill me, hungry, kill, kill, kill kill,**_ _ **kill**_ _and_ ….

Connor killed the walker with a determined stab to his head, closing his eyes for a moment and quickly shaking his head to get rid of these thoughts.

Stupid fucking immunity.

He had a quick look outside the windows, checked left and right and the rest of the cockpit but it looked pretty much empty. Pretty much clear.

"Connor?" came Murphy's careful voice from the back.

"Aye?"

"Anythin?"

"No, you?"

"No. 's clear."

"Same here, clear. Just a walker. Already took care af 'im."

There was some more mumbling coming from the back of the airplane.

"What?" Connor asked, louder, frowning, turning around so he could leave the cockpit.

"Someone took a fuckin fat shit in here and didn't bother fuckin flushing" Murphy complained, exiting the bathroom and slamming the door shut, looking at Connor.

"An by that I mean both in the can _an_ d the sink, man. Fucken stinks more than a walker's rotten ass in the summer, yikes" Murphy went on, holding his nose closed, using the other hand to wave about in front of his face.

Connor laughed.

"Well guess where ye'll be sleeping tonight if yer not being a nice boy."

"Fuck ye, I'll kill ye if ye pull any fuckin pranks like tha" Murphy warned him as the both of them headed for the exit to get Daryl and Samantha.

"I'll make ye _eat_ that shit if ye do" the younger MacManus said but eventually laughed, too, immediately more relaxed again now that it was obvious that the wreckage was safe and secured. He was already looking forward to hauling in for the night here, after what he'd seen, apart from the bathroom of course. But other than that it was a freaking top notch private jet. Chaos and a few dirt and blood spatters or not. It still had the nice super expensive leather seats and even a couch. Fuck _yeah. No sleeping in the cold tonight, sitting around a campfire and freezing their asses off inside thin tents. No this time, they's be protected by steel and a 360° roof._  
  
"Is that a dare, then, dear brother 'o mine?" Connor asked, grinning even more, but he let go the moment they got back to Samantha and Daryl.

"276" he announced proudly. For a moment Daryl frowned, but then he got it, huffing. The old walker killing competition that had started in summer back at the prison. He didn't have a clue how many walker kills there had been before 276, he even thought Connor was probably lying and making it up, whatever it was, he got the memo anyway.

"So what, walkers inside?"

"Just one. Te pilot. I took care of 'im. Looks like he died from te crash, people probably checked te cockpit, saw 'im, took off. Place was clear otherwise. I think we're all set fer the night."

"You got bit again?" Daryl teased a little, but secretly scanned his friend all over, just to make sure. Connor gave him a little smirk.

"Suuuuuure. All over" he said and then nudged his friend. "C'mon. Let's put up some alarms and get tucked in. There's a five star suite waiting fer us all tonight."

* * *

For a while, Connor actually just sat there on the pilot's chair, all sprawled out with his feet resting on the panel at an awkward angle, reading the manuals and notes he had found in the cockpit. They had cleaned up the place, got rid of the body and anything too smelly, and since the Irishman was momentarily a bit too annoyed by Suzie's crying in the back, he had withdrawn up here, a place he found rather fitting for himself, the leader, the head of the group. The pilot.

He tried to figure out some of the buttons, was actually really interested in the technology of an airplane although he didn't know shit about it (he'd seen a bunch of documentaries about them back in the late 90s, but what was that worth). It wouldn't take too long and the sun would be gone, so he tried to make best of the remaining light up front here, but just like the many many times before, it didn't take too long and somebody was there to interrupt him yet again.

It was always like that, with such a small, tight-knit group that is always watching out for each other, fighting for everyday survival, together. Connor turned his head a little to see who was entering the tiny cockpit and then smiled because it was Daryl, of course it was, entering the room and somewhat closing the door behind himself, only to walk over to the copilot's seat.

"You wanna fly this thing?" the hunter greeted his friend as he sat down and then examined all the buttons with a little frown, touching a bunch of those, grabbing the steering wheel, then looking back at Connor who was reading the notes.

"Aye. Brooks ta Terminus, first class flight. Do ye have yer boarding card ready, Mr Dixon?" he asked, smiling lazily.

"Sure do, MacPilot."

"It's like te fuckin bat mobile" Connor said with a little laugh, grabbing the steering wheel, too. "'m Batman, yer Robin. Obviously. I bet I could fly this thing eventually. It looked kinda easy on _Snakes on a plane_."

"Yeah, there ain't no snakes on this plane, leprechaun. Not with me round. And if there were, at least we'd have a nice midnight snack."

They both chuckled but eventually stopped, too tired to keep their stupid talk going for too long, especially since Connor already seemed a little broodier again. Daryl looked at his friend, chewing on his lips, then looked back at the buttons, then outside.

"If ye could…fly anywhere. Where'd ye go?" Connor suddenly asked, lost in thoughts, curiously.

"Hm?" Daryl muttered, still chewing on his lower lip and looking at Connor, just shrugging. "Dunno" he mumbled awkwardly and started chewing on his fingernails. The Irishman snorted.

"Oh come on, everyone's got like a favourite place they saw on tv or in a paper or shit like that."

"I ain't even ever been outta Georgia, man" Daryl muttered and looked away. "Or been on a holiday in general" he said, swallowing a little.

"Makes it even more likely that ye wanna go somewhere."

Daryl shrugged once more, because he had honestly never wasted a thought on this. He just looked at Connor for a while, wondering once more how the stupid leprechaun always managed to drag him out of his old life and into the world of people who had never been abused or lived in a shitty household, people that were rednecks or punks and drug dealers and assholes and all the usual environment he'd found himself in before the outbreak. And once again he was reminded of how he never would have met someone like Connor before all this, never would've gotten to talk or even think about a life outside his usual abusive barriers.

"Dunno, Rocky Mountains? Grand Canyon?" he mumbled, looking straight ahead again.

"Some place with great nature and…peace…I guess.."

Connor smiled a little at his friend, nodding, until he turned his head to look outside as well.

"Aye. That is nice" he answered, and then smirked. "And totally you."

Daryl huffed but then kept looking at Connor curiously.

"You?"

Connor let out a little sigh and turned his head even further, so Daryl could no longer see his face.

"Ireland 'f course" he said after a while, still not looking at Daryl but staring at the train tracks, the darkening sky above them. "Check on the crazy old woman and…." he took a deep breath, shook his head with a snort and adjusted his position. "Smell that… fuckin air one more time."

Daryl just looked at his friend.

"Yah miss it a lot" he said, feeling and seeing his friend's pain and homesickness right then and there. Connor just snorted once again.

"'f course I do. 's my home."

He fumbled with his hands a little.

"Haven't seen that woman in almost 15 years. And now that Murph's got Sam it just got me thinking…She always wanted ta fuckin hook us up with uuuugly chicks from down at te village" he said, laughing a little, only to stop. "She'd loved ta see our Murph kinda adopting a kid and getting himself a lad and all the shit that's budding up out there."

Daryl chewed on his lips a little and then shrugged, looking outside.

"Well, maybe she'll see it" he said, which made Connor look at him.

"Maybe they're doing alright over there. When we went to the CDC this doctor guy told us about Europe and France holding up pretty long. And Ireland…as an island, maybe they're still..breathing that air and killing their livers in pubs, riverdancing…"

Connor chuckled a little, although it was a sad one.

"We'll get there" Daryl said, nodding contentedly.

"You asking where I wanna fly if I could, kay, I say Ireland. Drag yah ass all the way back there" he went on and Connor gave him an honest appreciative smirk. For a moment he just tried to picture it. Daryl Dixon with him in Ireland. Bar hopping and getting wasted, bar fighting and doing mindless carefree shit. Yeah. He'd totally like that. Daryl looked back at him and eventually smirked, too.

"Just so I can make _damn sure_ yah stay there on the other side of the damn Atlantic when I make my way back over here so I can finally live in peace. After a year of yah stupid following me around."

Connor laughed, cheered up at least, leaning in a little.

"Yer a fuckin ass. Can't wait ta see ye fly all the way back here ta redneck land. We ain't got no place fer pussies like ye anyway. Fucker" the Irishman said and eventually fully leaned in with that smile, once again capturing his friend's lips with his own, to show how much he really appreciated the talk, though.

The kiss was gentle, calm and almost sweet, dragging along, getting deeper and more honest, until it ended up getting somewhat more heated and desperate, with clumsy hands trying to grab some hair at awkward angles, until it was Daryl who once again tried to reach between his friend's legs, because just like Connor he was equally getting jealous of Murphy and Samantha with their building thing.

Connor let him grab and rub for a moment, gasping a little into the mouth, but he eventually grabbed his hand to stop him, breaking the kiss.

"Not now, okay" he muttered, looking his friend in his eyes. "Later" he muttered, taking the hand and moving it away, back to Daryl's side of the cockpit. His friend looked a little disappointed but somewhat understanding, and in the end, Connor supposed that…fuck it. At least some way then. It was true that he wasn't exactly in the mood right now, certainly not in such a tight space and with the others right outside that thin door that wasn't even really closed yet, but this moment could use some more loving, and Daryl looked like he really wanted to, so he used the motion of moving Daryl's hand back over to place his own between his legs instead, quickly fumbling with the belt and the zipper there, confusing the hunter a whole lot.

His frown and the look on his face gave it away but Connor quickly silenced his friend with another passionate, loving kiss, determinedly working through the layers of clothing until he got to the heated flesh again, quickly wrapping a firm warm hand with a tattooed finger around it to give him some release, some loving, some confirmation. Daryl immediately tried to return the favor at first, grabbing some more, struggling some more, but then he eventually relaxed back into the seat and endured the continuous touch and rubbing, the kissing and stroking and heated breathing, understanding that Connor did not want to fuck, but wanted to give him something anyway.

He kind of wanted to roll his eyes at themselves. He was actually rather surprised himself, how quickly this thing was spiraling out of control, how they let it take them over rather rapidly after the shootout at Woodbury, but then again, it was exactly that kind of unfolding of events that made it so natural, so logical.

They were scared shitless of the future.

Because everything was bleak, because everything was getting harder, because it was getting colder, because they were losing more and more people, because of the constant hunger and worry and dread and harshness. Admitting the whole thing had been such a long and stubborn process, had been such a fight, that now that it was gone it was just too easy to let it consume them like a tidal wave. Embrace it just like that, because it felt that much better.

Daryl used one hand to dig his fingers into the leather of the seat, cursing a little, into Connor's mouth, thrusting up and down a little, into the hand, his whole body covered with goosebumps, and this time, not from the cold. He hated to admit it but he incredibly enjoyed this thing right here, the slight thrill that was connected to it because he knew that Sam was right outside the door that wasn't quite closed, that Murphy was right outside the jet and that if only he took the right direction on his watch shift, he'd see.

Connor wouldn't stop just mindlessly kissing his mouth, jaw, neck, even gently biting and tugging at his earlobe (pretty fucking gay but holy fucking god didn't he mind that now, not one bit), eventually speeding the movement of his hand up more and more, until he successfully made his friend come, swallowing his little shout with yet another kiss that eventually got calmer, gentler, more collected, until Daryl was eventually back on earth, his limbs and entire body prickling from his orgasm, appreciation, gratefulness.

He just sat in the chair with heaving chest, trying to calm down, only vaguely aware of how Connor even almost carefully took care of him, cleaned him up, sorted his clothes, making it look like nothing had happened anyway. Maybe Connor kind of wanted to have sex, now, too. How could he not after that shit, but he still decided against it, the voice of reason speaking up. He didn't want to destroy this moment, this evening, today's development and all. And he certainly didn't want to rush things, didn't want to do it so often, although it was a natural thing to do at the beginning of a relationship. He was comfortable now, with everything, the state of their relationship, the way it was developing, the emotions connected to it, the growing content, and he wasn't the kind of person to destroy that with mindless emotional outbursts or addiction to fucking.

Connor smirked a little and just leaned back into his own seat, not saying anything, just grabbing his notes again and giving Daryl enough space to get himself back together again. The hunter eventually cleared his throat and scratched his head a little, maybe feeling a tiny bit awkward because he'd let himself go like that, had done the whole lovey-dovey bullshit today in general, but the truth was still very simple. He didn't regret shit.

He eventually shifted and got up.

"'m gonna go…take..a piss" he excused himself, the usual introduction of " _need to get freakin changed and shit_ " which made Connor smirk.

"Aye, just don' use te bathroom. Someone put some _mines_ in there."

Daryl turned his head a little to look back, only to snort.

"Alright, got it."

For a moment, he wondered whether he should say thanks. For the handjob. But in the end, he decided against it because that would just make it look like he'd just come in here for that kinda thing in the first place. Which he honestly hadn't. Connor wouldn't say anything anyway either, which actually surprised him. The Irishman seemed pretty relaxed and content himself, after this, there wasn't even a cocky stupid remark to put everything in perspective, a pathetic attempt to make it any less gay. No. Connor was just sitting there, reading, a gentle relaxed smile on his face. Completely fine with it.

"Be right back" the hunter said with a tiny smirk as well, placing a gentle hand on Connor's shoulder to squeeze it a little bit.  
The Irishman responded with a lazy but gentle pat as goodbye. Not saying anything, not making anything funny or awkward or stupid.

And wow.  
How weird was that.  
Because it felt great.  
It felt _good._

* * *

"Anything?" the hunter greeted his lookalike outside, startling Murphy a bit, making him drop the cigarette he had tried to light. Daryl immediately frowned a little because he thought they'd run out of cigarettes days ago, which seemed to be the exact reason why Murphy had flinched in the first place, now kneeling down with an annoyed "Fuck!". The younger MacManus picked the cigarette up, cleaned the filter a bit and then put it back in his mouth, shaking his head.

"Nothin" he said, falling quiet again.

Daryl waited a bit for him to say something, but when Murphy wouldn't and looked lost in thoughts instead, he decided to fuck it and let the cat out of the bag.

"Here" he muttered, nudging the other in the arm a little, with the small box, making the contents rattle a bit. Murphy turned his head to look at it and then widened his eyes a little, visibly tensing and blushing a little, only to look Daryl right in his eyes. But there was no doubt. The hunter was honestly trying to hand him freakin _condoms._

What the fuck.

"Connor told me yah asked for these" Daryl simply stated, actually surprised how content he was himself. Just a couple of months ago this would have been so awkward for him, because of his lack of experience, because of his shame and frustration. But now that he was so getting used to it because it was happening regularly now, he didn't feel any such thing anymore. Sex. Bohoo. How spectacular. Not.

Back in the old days, with Merle, with his biker buddies and the girls at the biker club, this topic had been in every man's mouth anyway.

"Don't need 'em anyway" he said and maybe this time it was a bit awkward. Mainly not even because of the fact that Connor was a man and he was openly talking about a same-sex relationship, but mostly, because Connor was Murphy's brother. His family. And family plus sex was always an awkward topic. He still cringed whenever he remembered those time when he'd walked into Merle wanking or fucking some chick next door. Yikes.

He nudged Murphy with the box once more, this time a bit harder, because it was slowly getting fucking awkward. The younger MacManus finally took the box and maybe cringed a bit as well, wrinkling his nose a little, but then he turned his head once to shoot a look back at the airplane, only to quickly shove the box into the pockets of his jeans.

"Fuck, I **sooo** don't wanna know" Murphy muttered a little, but no matter how hard he tried, the thoughts practically and automatically forced themselves into his head. His brother and friend freaking _fucking_ each other. Ughhhh. Definitely a whole lot worse than the dump someone had taken in that airplane. Yikes.

Daryl snorted a little.

"Yeah, y'don't."

He turned around a little to look in the same direction as Murphy, straight ahead, facing the train tracks. Murphy side-eyed Daryl once, still a bit disgusted, but at the same time, he couldn't deny the fact that he knew that the man next to him loved his brother. No matter how fucked up that was. Because it did the trick.

"Aye, but whatever's goin on…at least 's helpin 'im so I'm good" he said, now finally properly looking at Daryl, who looked back at him, nodding.

"Yeah. Think he's getting better. Maybe we should take our time to get t'this place. This whole trip right here 's doing the guy good. Like Mekka or something."

"Mekka is a city in Arabia, asshat. And it's got ta do with Islam, not Catholicism."

"Whatever."

Murphy snorted, a bit offended by Daryl's ignorance towards religion. But then again, he wouldn't be Daryl if it were any different, and he was glad that his lookalike was so different than him. Because every single difference that was between them made him more of an other person than him, made it a less fucked up that Connor was fucking him, although they looked alike. At least this way, he could keep telling himself that Connor was doing it because of the guy's different personality. Not this.

"So you got something going with gingerbread?" Daryl asked after a moment, trying to make some sort of awkward conversation. He still wasn't used to them having normal conversations without the whole fighting and arguing and wanting to punch each other, but he was trying, wanted to try, because he liked Murphy and wanted to get to know him better, wanted to become friends with him, too, now that he was family.

Murphy frowned.

"Gingerbread?"

"Well, she got red hair, ain't she."

Murphy snorted.

"Figured people don't get names 'n hillbilly land."

"What?"

Murphy turned his head a little to start chuckling, shaking his head a bit because Daryl really was ridiculous.

"Leprechaun, emokid and gingerbread? Seriously?"

Although he didn't want to, Daryl eventually started chuckling, too.

"Damn right."

Murphy took another drag on his cigarette.

"Sounds like a bad superhero trio in a comic or somethin."

"Yeah figured yah the nerd type. Real surprise yah gonna nail anyone in the first place, geek."

Murphy snorted.

"Well at least 'm actually nailing someone the way it's sapposed ta be."

"Screw yah, know nothing 'bout me."

"Sure do, big D" Murphy said, suddenly laughing at his own joke, which made Daryl look at him.

"Big D, pimp of MacSwaggie's gay club" he cackled, nudging the hunter. "The D stands for dick. Ha."

"You're the dick, dumbass" Daryl growled and boxed Murphy's arm a little. "Hand the shit back over, ain't no way 'm helpin yah take care of your own dick, then, little shit."

Murphy just gave him the middle finger with a grin and moved out of Daryl's reach.

"Fuck ye."

They kept this going for a little while, until Murphy gave in with a little smirk.

"No, 'm fine with it, alright. No matter how fucked up it is…we're cool" he said, looking straight ahead. "Whatever keeps Conn afloat."

Daryl just looked at Murphy for a while, but before he got to say something, they were actually interrupted by Samantha, who suddenly left the wreckage with a barfing Suzie in her arms, quick to get her out of there so she could throw up on the grass instead. Murphy turned around and frowned a little, surprised, worried and curious about what was going on.

"Sam?"

"I was just trying to feed her when she started spitting, I think something's wrong with the food I gave her" the woman explained, worry clearly showing on her face as well. Daryl just stayed where he was and watched the scenario, unsure what to do or what to say. He scratched the back of his head a little and watched them for a moment, only to let out a little sigh and get closer to the airplane as well.

It was then when his day took a downturn and he suddenly felt a gun to the back of his head.

"Ohhh deary me. You're screwed up, asshole."


	38. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooookkkaaayy.
> 
> Here I am. With the LAST chapter of Absolution. I know, I said two chapters, but then I thought, nah, this is a good place to leave this story. I'm going to put the Terminus storyline and Grady Memorial hospital storyline in my last fic, which I'm going to start writing and posting soon. On the one hand, I'm a bit sad that Abso is finished now. I've been writing on it for a year, so it hurts to see it go, but at the same time, I'm also incredibly glad that this fic is finished. It got incredibly long (it's way longer than Damnation!), maybe it dragged a bit a times, but I'm still very proud of this fic, because I have put some major character and relationship development behind me. Some of it good, some of it out of character and stupid and I know, but I'm still very proud of this, proud of everything.
> 
> I'm getting the vibe that it should end, know it should end, and I'm deterimined to end it properly, not rush it. I didn't spent three years of my life developing this series only to make it utter shit.
> 
> So once again, the short plan: The next fic isn't going to be as long as this one. I won't be writing season 5B under any circumstances. My story will end in Grady Memorial hospital, just like any time, with season material, but with my own material, too. The next fic will stay shippy, and I will develop the shippy a little further because it should, but I'm close to finishing character and relationship development on this series and I'm very happy with it. The proper ending is already taking shape in my head, and I really like it, really think this is a good ending for the entire arc.
> 
> Anyway, thank you very much for reading Absolution, sticking with me for five fics if you did, thank you for the incredible amount of comments and views and kuddos, maybe I'll see you back on my next fic, whatever it's gonna be, once again, THANK you for everything, and here's the last chapter of Absolution. And I'm going to post the last fic of Arrows and Bullets soon to wrap it all up.

Within seconds a whole bunch of men came walking out of the woods, weapons raised, heading strictly for the plane, Sam, Murphy, him. Daryl startled a bit and tried to flinch away but the gun to his head made him still completely, terrified, not only for himself with the weapon and all, but also for the other three. Especially Samantha and Suzie.

The woman frantically tried to take her still barfing daughter to flee, behind the crashed jet, underneath it, somewhere, but then there already was a disgusting looking half bald guy with long hair heading for her, threatening her with a knife, until she quickly placed a now crying Suzie back on the ground so she could place herself protectively in front of her, both arms stretched out and ready to scratch fight, box, whatever it took to protect her child with a venomous "Fuck off you piece of shit!" snarled right at the intruder, despite the fact that he looked stronger, more dangerous, and was armed.

"Don't ye fuckin touch her, motherfucker!" Murphy immediately roared and ran towards her, despite all the guns around him, eager to protect her and the child at all costs. Then a shot was suddenly fired, only a warning shot, right in front of the younger MacManus feet, hitting the ground, making him stop and then turn his head to give the shooter a death glare.

"Youuuu're screwed up" the man behind Daryl said once again, now laughing. The hunter raised his hands and slowly tried to turn around, so he could face their attacker, the guy who was obviously the leader. The ugly, creepy man with the long hair and knife was grabbing Sam in the mean time, held her in a choke hold, knife pressed to her throat, using the other dirty hand to let it travel across her curves, which made her wince and flinch in disgust, kicking and struggling and fighting and shouting even now.

"Ohoo, this is Christmas" the leader said once more, the moment Daryl had turned around to face him. He looked back and forth between him and Murphy, seemed to notice the incredible similarity almost immediately.

"It's definitely him. I know the face, Joe. I saw 'im under the bed. He killed Harley."

And it suddenly dawned on Daryl, too.

Woodbury.

When he had tried to get Connor the medicine. It was them. Those claimer guys. And he had _most definitely_ killed one of them. _Oh fuck_.  
The guy whose name Daryl thought was Tony, suddenly turned his head and then looked at Murphy, too, frowning a little.

"Well one of 'em at least. Ha, twin brothers, who'd have thought."

 _Oh fuck_. Daryl thought when he saw Murphy frown and then look like a rabbit caught in headlines because he didn't even have a fucking clue what they were talking about. Of course the lookalike shit was going to catch up to them eventually. Connor was going to beat his ass if something happened to Murphy now, because of him, because he looked just like him.

No. There was no way he was gonna let that happen.  
He widened his eyes when he suddenly remembered that, too. Connor. Connor was still inside the jet. The one one of these guys was entering now, weapon raised and ready to shoot. They didn't have any guns anymore. No more ammo. Connor only had a freaking knife. He wouldn't stand a chance like that, if he got surprised now, if he had fallen asleep in the cockpit or whatever.

Oh shit.

Daryl tried to walk a few steps but then Joe interrupted him yet again.

"Shit and I was thinking about turning in for the night, giving up on your trail…." He laughed yet again and looked at Daryl, then at Murphy, then at Sam and then at his men. "And here we are with two turkeys for thanksgiving….now who's gonna play the game with me and see who gets the balldropper for Harley, huh?" he asked, laughing once more, gun still pointed to Daryl's head.

"Who of you gets to eat the bullet, who's gonna sell his precious brother out…you…or you?" he said, pointing at Daryl, then at Murphy, who finally lost it.

"What te fuck are ye talking about?! Just take te fuckin jet and our shit and let us go, motherfucker!"

"Eenie…meenie…miney.." Joe said, continuously pointing his gun back and forth between Daryl and Murphy, making the gravity of the situation even clearer. They wanted revenge. They wanted someone dead. Without discussion, because they enjoyed sick twisted games, because they were scumbags, because this was all his fault, Daryl thought, as he raised both hands a little higher and started walking closer to Joe, trying to shield Murphy, to protect him, because it wasn't his fault, because he was Connor's little brother, because he was _his_ little brother.

He was only milliseconds away from just taking the bullet because he knew they didn't stand a chance, because he wanted to give Murphy, Sam and Connor a chance to bail and get out of something they had nothing to do with, and it was already on his tongue _, take it from me, then. You want blood for this, you get it, but leave them out of this._ But then, much to his surprise, Murphy suddenly spoke up.

"I fuckin did it ye piece 'a shit, alright?" Murphy shouted and simply started walking, towards Joe, despite the fact that weapons were pointed at him.  
But Murphy just kept walking, in Daryl's direction, a deadly, furious and at the same time serious look on his face.

"I killed yer man because he fucken _deserved_ it. Because there's no space on this earth fer scumbags like ye. Because ye _all_ deserve ta fuckin die."

Daryl widened his eyes in utter shock and surprise, turning his head to look at Murphy because he couldn't believe this was happening. At first he felt realization and gratefulness rush over him, because this was Murphy _stepping up for him_ just like Connor had done it so many months ago, protecting him as if he was family, as if he mattered. They had spent so many weeks hating each other, fighting each other, ignoring each other's existence and fighting over Connor, but here he was now, stepping up for him, making that official, too.

No more fighting, no more dumbarseness and hating each other.  
They were family without a doubt. And family meant stepping up for each other.  
Protecting each other.

And it was exactly that what soon made Daryl feel how wrong this all was, that this was Murphy taking credit for something he had not done but he himself had done, that this was Murphy admitting to a deed these guys wanted to punish someone for. With weapons. And because they were family, because he was Connor's family, because they were a team, Daryl immediately stepped up for him, too, not willing to allow him to play their similarity card for something as dangerous and stupid as this.

"Don't" Daryl shouted the moment Joe pointed his gun at Murphy, trying to press it down.

"You want blood. I get it. Take it from me. ** _I_ ** did it, alright. I did. He ain't got nothing to do with it" he said, quickly, almost frantically, turning his head to look at the man who had recognized him, the man he had looked at a couple of weeks ago when he'd watched the other guy strangle him in that room in Woodbury, watched him from under the bed.

"You. Look at me. Yah know yah saw me. I didn't have no scar on my head, right. I wore this thing., it ain't been him, man" he said, pointing at his leather jacket with the wings, trying to take the blame right back, even when Murphy tried to argue with him, keep the blame, try to protect him because he was his friend, making it even worse.

"HEY, I get it, I get it, boys" Joe said, looking at the both of them, shutting them up, until he grinned at Daryl.

"One of you wronged our dear Harley, and I don't care who, this one's _gonna_ pay, so let's make a deal…One of you…is a liar….and one of you…is a murderer. So each and every one of you deserves to be punished. But we can settle this, we're reasonable men. One of you is gonna get beat to death…" he said, laughing again "the other with the smaller offense's just gonna get shot, then we'll have the woman and then…maybe the kid….then we'll be square" Joe said, still laughing.

"You leave 'er fuckin be!" Murphy roared and darted forward, but then everything took its course. Before he even got to Joe one of the other guys suddenly rammed the grip of his rifle hard into his belly, making Murphy grunt in pain and double over, then a second guy joined right in and kicked and beat him, too, making Daryl lose it as well. "LET HIM GO!" he roared and tried to help the younger MacManus, grabbing one of the guys to get him off him, but then he suddenly heard the cocking of a gun right behind him.

"Guess you made your choice on your own, boys" Joe said, always laughing, and when the shot rang through the surrounding woods, Daryl startled violently, letting go of the guy, already dreading the feel of the bullet entering him, remembering how painful it had been when the Governor had shot him earlier this year.

But the pain never came.  
Instead, apart from Murphy's grunting and the sounds of people beating him, there was nothing but gargling noises behind him. Daryl turned around for a second and saw Joe lying there, on the ground, weapon dropped, pressing both his hands to the bleeding side of his neck, having been shot there.

"What the…"

Then there was another grunt, and when Daryl turned his head almost frantically once again he could see that Samantha had overwhelmed her own attacker, kicking at him, between his legs, then hitting him right in the face, only to take the knife and ram it into his belly, shoving him as far away from Suzie as she killed him, mercilessly. Only split seconds after that there was another shot, dropping one of the attackers who were on Murphy and still unaware of what was happening all around them because they were so caught up beating and kicking him on the ground.

Only when one of the guys yelped and was thrown back did the other react, turning around, in the direction of the shooter, immediately firing his rifle at the jet.

"NO!" Daryl yelled and looked up, at the jet, the open door there, seeing all the bullets flying and hitting….

The guy who had entered the plane a couple of minutes before, to get to Connor.

The guy let out a couple of gurgling gasps, the front of his shirt riddled with bullet holes and soaking with blood that also exited his mouth, then he doubled over. Connor had used him, as shield, knife pressed to his throat, his rifle stuck between his arm and waist, now being revealed as the guy fell out of the jet, dead before he hit the ground, shot by his own men. Murphy used the moment his other attacker was busy staring at the jet and Connor to kick at his leg, making him fall over and loose grip of his gun, falling down, with Murphy immediately punching right back, to take revenge and do the exact same that had been done to him seconds earlier. It was then, right after the last attacker falling, when Connor finally exited the jet, with his former attacker's gun taken from him pretty much the second the guy had tried to ambush him in the cockpit, a deadly look on his face as he left the plane and jumped down.

"MURPH" he shouted, dead serious, quickly walking up to him as Murphy stilled and looked up.

"He's _mine_ " Connor said, once again that freakishly scary, stone cold and murderous look on his face.

Murphy didn't even get to say or do something because then Connor almost shoved him out of the way, using the grip of the rifle he had obtained to immediately start beating his brother's attacker's face, brutally, then he actually let go of the gun and beat him with his fists. Over and over again. Harder each time. Murphy stumbled back a bit, wiping the blood off his nose and mouth and trying to breathe hard although everything hurt from the way the guys had beaten him up, and although it was once again frightening, he knew this was exactly the reason why Connor was doing this. Hurting them because they had hurt _him_.

It didn't take long and he had to raise his head to look at Sam instead, who was creating an equally messing situation by the plane, still stabbing and dragging her own attacker away from her daughter, equally bloody and emotionally unstable because she'd been so scared of her child getting hurt, so scared of getting violated herself, by this ugly, old slimebag of a guy, so she just kept going until Murphy clumsily stumbled over to her, holding his ribs and groaning a bit because it hurt, but then he was right there, hauling her away from the dead body, pulling her into a tight hug with calming soothing words saying that it was alright and all over, although she struggled violently at first, still in shock.

Daryl just stood there, equally surprised and shocked about what had happened, remembering her own words. _They undererstimate me_. It certainly looked like she could handle herself. Daryl then turned his head again, staring at his friend in front of him who was once again going rapid but looking freakishly calm at the same time as he beat the guy, and Daryl knew exactly why Connor was doing it, too.

He'd probably seen them beat Murphy up. He'd probably seen each wince and heard every grunt and yelp of his twin brother, probably felt it, too, the one thing that still made his blood boil, not just because of Boston, but also because of his brother instincts that had tripled by now. This was the Connor that once again wasn't about rationality or vigilante justice and killing for the greater good, no, this was the Connor that was strictly about vengeance, revenge and wrath, this was the Connor making people pay twice the price they had tried to sell moments before. And he remembered his talk, too.

 _But I'm telling ye right now, if it's our survival or some old rules and humanity, I'm gonna fuckin choose our survival. I **will** kill people and I will let people get killed if our or our friends' lives are at stake_. _This isn't about winning the fuckin nobel prize or dying like some fucking superhero. It's about survival and keepin yer fuckin family safe now_.

And he was doing exactly that now.

Beating people for beating his brother, killing people for touching a single hair on his head.

This time, he didn't blame him, though. Not anymore.  
He wanted them to die, too.

He watched Connor beat the man to death and then use the rifle to blow his head off with a shot, ignoring the sound it made and the waste of bullets, then the Irishman turned slightly to the left, grabbing his knife in a swift motion and bringing it down, stabbing the other guy's head when he heard his desperate gasp for breath, still alive from the previous shot but in shock but it didn't matter, because right after the stab that killed him, Connor got up, turned his head, shot a cold almost insane look at Samantha and Murphy who were sitting by the stabbed corpse of the other guy, obviously not finished yet until everyone was killed, until he had shot and killed every single one of them himself.

Daryl turned his head when he still heard Joe gurgle and gasp for breath behind him, because during all this time, he still hadn't quite died yet, and a part of him even suspected that Connor had done this on purpose. Just shot him to stop him from shooting him right in the head, to start everything, but not to finish it right away.

He knew why.

The guy was the leader.  
And he knew what they had done with the leaders all the time, because he had done it himself along with Connor once.

A third shot startled him a bit, snapped him out of it, made him stop looking at the pathetic figure of Joe, and turn his head to look at the other members of his group instead. Sam had calmed down a bit by now and was mindlessly cradling her crying child, trying to calm her down, telling her that everything was okay and over, too.

Connor, who had expressionlessly searched the creepy man's clothes for a weapon (with success) grabbed it, then turned around, shooting his brother a look who stared back at him, nodding after a moment, a silent conversation going on between them. This time, Murphy was ready. He would not protest when Connor handed him the gun, would not say anything, blame him for the mess or sheer brutality of his murders because he thought they were just, too, after what these guys had done to him, after what these guys had tried to do to Sam, Suzie, Daryl. So he took the gun, then his brother's hand to get up, checking the magazine, then looking at the still gargling figure of Joe on the ground. And Daryl turned his head to look at him, too, grabbing him by his shirt, to pull him up, make him kneel, to help them.

"Get up… _get up_ " he snarled, angrily shaking the guy's bloody and slippery hand off when Joe tried to fight him, tried to hold on to him, tried to say something. But the shot to his neck wouldn't let him. Daryl just held him in place, patiently waiting for Connor and Murphy to walk over, and when they placed the muzzles of their guns to the guy's head, he stayed right between them, holding Joe up by the back of his jacket, a stern look on his face as well, a look that only intensified when he heard Connor speak up, heard Murphy join in, although the younger MacManus couldn't remember everything about the prayer, he could speak parts of it along with his brother, just like Daryl, who thought them along with them but wouldn't speak them out. Because he knew that although they were pretty much family by now, this was something that belonged to them and them only.

"And Shepherds we shall be For thee, my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand Our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands…"

Joe was trying to say something, still gargling, but Murphy just kicked him angrily. Connor stayed right where he was and stared at the back of the man's head with incredible intensity. Daryl just held on to Joe and kept him in place despite Murphy's kick.

"So we shall flow a river forth to Thee And teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomeni Patri Et Fili"  
They both readjusted the muzzles of their guns. Daryl prepared to let go.

"Spiritus Sancti."

Two bullets entered Joe's head, sending him flying forward the moment Daryl let go.  
Suzie immediately started crying again, because of the noise and Samantha just hushed her, but still looking at the three men with equal intensity, thinking of it as justice served right, too.

* * *

"I saw 'im" Daryl said, as he walked up to Murphy with a water bottle in his hand. Murphy, who was sitting there outside the plane, leaned against its broken wing, staring into the distance, with a black eye and a couple of bruises in his face. It was morning by now, the sun rising somewhere above the forest, their breath escaping their mouths in clouds because it was cold.

The hunter handed his lookalike the bottle and then just looked at him, inspected all the bruises and the bit of blood, feeling a ping of guilt because Murphy had been beat up because of his wrong doings. He let out a little sigh and sat down beside him, chewing on his lips, watching Murphy drink the water and wince a bit.

"Gone down to the stream t'burn the bodies 'n get washed up. Gonna check on him in a minute" Daryl said, about Connor, because although he had seen his friend first, he wanted to actually talk to Murphy first, before he handled things with Connor, before they got going. "Aye" Murphy said the moment the bottle left his mouth, once again grunting a little, scratching and rubbing his rib and belly because it hurt.

"Sam's asleep. Suzie, too. Took her all night ta calm down fram this shit" he muttered, a bit lost in thoughts.

Daryl just looked at the younger MacManus for a while, once again feeling guilty, staring down.

"This is my fault" he muttered after a while, making Murphy look up and look at him.

"I met 'em…" the hunter went on, avoiding Murphy's gaze. "Back 'n Woodbury. When I tried t'get the meds for your bro…I killed one of 'em when he attacked me and I…." he took a long hard breath. "Had no idea they'd be this good at trackin me down. I thought I'd…."

"Hey…"Murphy interrupted him, looking at him. "Ye were trying ta help."

Daryl huffed.

"I was stupid…if it weren't for me they wouldn't have followed and attacked us …."

Murphy snorted.

"Trust me, they woulda attacked us anyway" he mumbled, taking another sip on the water. "'s how evil bastards like 'em work. They'll always find an excuse ta be dickheads and kill people over the stupidest things….'s not on ye."

The hunter turned his head and looked at his friend's sibling, saw all the bruises, remembered how this man had just stood up for him.

"It is. Yah got your ass beat cos you got my face and they thought…" he muttered, looking down. He was still used to be blamed for everything, doing everything wrong.

"I got my ass beat cos that's what family does" Murphy interrupted him and kept staring at him. Then he looked back at the plane. "Connor, Sam, Suzie…I'd take a beatin or a bullet fer each and everyone of ye…cos that's what we do. We protect each other, 'n keep each other safe. Con's not the only one doin tha all the time. We all are."

Daryl just stared. Right in his lookalike's eyes. And Murphy just repeated it. Firmly.

"Like it or not but yer parta that family now."

Daryl chuckled a tiny bit and looked down again, fumbling with his fingers, happiness rushing all over him, despite the mess all around them, despite everything that had happened last night. Of course they were his family. Of course. Always had been. Ever since Connor had stumbled into his life. Ever since he had first seen Murphy's face on that picture, on the very first day. Always a part of him as well, always a part of them.

And here Murphy was now, in person, not mad at him, not fighting, all mature and honest and welcoming and with a heart of gold, just the way Connor had described him all the time. The truth was that Murphy had been his little big brother right from the off, too. Annoying, stupid, a face stealer, a stupid brat with emotions like a flaming volcano always throwing himself at trouble, but still.

Maybe for a short time, he really missed Merle because of that. Because words like these reminded him once more that his real family was gone, that there was no more blood going on, that he had lost his own, real brother, that his family had worked the exact same way back then, that family meant _everything_ , no matter how fucked up their definition of this had been.

But then again, back then, he'd never had anyone be so honest and open with him. Back then, no one'd ever had his back, not even Merle, because he'd been gone all the time. Back then, no one had protected him from anything, no one had ever stepped up for him to his father or any of the other bullies. Back then, although he'd'had blood and history connecting them, he'd still never had a true family. A family like he had now. A family that had been given to him and grown ever since this whole thing had started.

Murphy suddenly patted his knee once and then used it to haul himself back up with a grunt, to get back inside the jet to check on Sam and Suzie.  
But it was then when Daryl suddenly spoke up again.

"Hey Murphy" he said, not only surprising himself but actually the younger MacManus, too, with the fact that he was calling him by his full name, not some stupid belittling nickname. Murphy just looked at him, waiting. And Daryl looked right back.

"Yah family, too" he said, and they both knew what it meant. They had each other's back. And Murphy had certainly earned his endless loyalty, too.

* * *

He found Connor by the creek, crouching beside the water as he scrubbed his fingers a little, his hands and arms under a few curses. It didn't take too long and the Irishman heard the footsteps and the rustling leaves under Daryl's feet. He turned his head once and then gave his friend a tiny smirk, only to turn his head back to watch his scrubbing cursing once more.

"'s fuckin freezing this shit, man" he greeted his friend, still scrubbing until he decided to just fuck it and leave the last bits of blood on his skin be. He didn't look too bad after all, there'd only been thin sprays of blood on his clothes and on his skin from his beating and the stab to this one guy's head, but other than that, he'd certainly looked worse. He got up with a little sigh and turned around, now carefully eyeing his friend who was staring into the distance, watching the pile of burning bodies not too far away from the spot they currently found themselves in, lost in thoughts.

"Hey" Connor said after a moment, almost gently, making Daryl look at him. "Ye alright?"

Daryl huffed a little. Funny that. He'd actually intended to come here to ask Connor if he was alright, after yet another murder spree of his, but now that he thought it about it and looked at it, it didn't even look like Connor could use a prep talk. The creepiness and coldness about him was completely gone again, like this was all part of some sick and strange cycle, that just like having sex Connor just needed to kill sometimes to let go, to find release, to be all good and better again, like this was some sort of strange afterglow.

He certainly felt in control now, looked in control. Whereas Daryl…..  
Maybe he still didn't feel quite comfortable with murdering alive people. Maybe he still didn't feel quite okay with the fact that he had not stopped Connor from killing them like _that_. But then again. He had helped them. He had wanted them to die. They had deserved it. Connor had been right with his talk. Last time he had tried to spare psychos and tried to ignore them, Woodbury had happened. So maybe this was him and his time trying to adjust to that sometimes, there needed to be more strict consequences for people like that.

He just needed to remember what they had said about Samantha and Suzie and he felt angry all over again. Because he hated rapists. Because he hated sick twisted bastards who got a thing for violation for the sake of their own enjoyment. So yeah. It all had its ups and downs, and maybe Connor didn't need the reassurance after last night. Maybe he did.

"Yah."

Connor placed a hand on his shoulder and kneaded it a bit, holding on, and Daryl just turned his head to shoot a glare at the smoking pile in the distance.

"You took care of 'em?" he muttered and Connor looked over there as well, nodding, wiping his face.

"Yup."

Daryl eyed him a little.

"No pennies?"

"Nope" Connor muttered, determined, at ease with himself and his killings at least, finally having found a way to cope with his outlashes, and then be completely fine again. "First of all, 's not like we have any. And second of all, fer what they tried ta do ta Murph, ye and Sam, they sure as fuck don' deserve forgiveness and safe passage anymore."

"Huh."

Connor frowned a little, looking at Daryl once more.

"Hey, ye sure ye alright? They didn't manage ta shoot ye or shit, did they?" Connor asked, worry now suddenly showing in his voice as he started to feel Daryl's chest, tried to turn him around a bit, which in the end, finally made the hunter smirk a bit because it reminded him of what Murphy had said, that they were family, that they took care of each other, whatever it took.

"They didn't, alright" the hunter muttered and then suddenly simply proceeded to hug his friend, using their closeness, letting out a little relieved sigh because everything was over, because they had come out on top and relatively unharmed, because Connor was no longer strange or felt strange and because the incident from last night didn't seem to have screwed up too much. And he held on to him to keep Connor here, to keep the good side of him and his humanity here, despite his deeds.

Connor responded surprisingly eager to the hug, all of the sudden, like he'd needed just that, finally letting his cool and 'all business' and determined cold killer side drop because then the concerned brother, friend and lover broke through.

"They could've fuckin shot yer fuckin ass again, man, fuck, tha was fuckin close" Connor admitted his fears, feeling Daryl's back just too make sure because he still remembered the sheer heart attack he'd almost had a couple of months ago when the Governor had shot his friend right in front of him. He'd already seen them beat up Murphy and it had been enough for more than a life time, so anything other than that would certainly have made him flip out even more.

And this time it was Daryl who made the joke because he couldn't help it. He didn't even know why he was like that. He knew that he was supposed to worry, be freaked out and feel ashamed of himself for the multiple murder, but somehow he didn't, quite the opposite now. He was happy. Felt safe and good simply because he still had his family, because they had won, because they could handle themselves, because they were finally in control and strong again, after Woodbury.

So he turned his head away from the smoke in the distance and concentrated on the positive aspects instead, Murphy's talk, Connor's hug, the remark.

"And yah don't want that cos yah gonna need it later, right" he said, making Connor laugh into his shoulder, until he moved so he could look Daryl in the eyes with a grin. "If only ye'd fuckin let me."

"Pffff" Daryl said, the look on his face saying it all, and he let out a surprised little huff when Connor suddenly made him shuffle backwards, towards the treeline, towards a tree, all the while starting to kiss him, never letting go.

"Leprechaun" the hunter muttered, into his friend's mouth, surprised by the sudden attack, when he felt his back connect with a tree, felt his hands move all over him, not just because Connor still seemed to want to make sure he was alright, but also, because he wanted something to happen. "You wanted to yesterday" Connor reminded his friend, quickly and almost roughly kissing him again because he had to realize how much he needed it himself, after all this death, because he needed something to keep him here, on the positive side, because he was beginning to scare himself a bit.

Because he felt no remorse over the continuous and growing brutality of his killings. Because he felt _nothing_ when he thought about them, because he knew he'd do the exact same thing again, in a heartbeat. He was comfortable enough with the fact that he could finally and properly handle himself again, protect his loved ones with incredible force and determination, appreciated that he was finally strong and deadly and on top of it again after last year's odyssey of crazines and depression, but then again, his new role in this new world scared him a bit, too. The slow and gradual loss of his devoutness and belief in good positive things for the sake of sheer survival was beginning to frighten him.

He knew it wasn't very wise to try and hold on to and cling to that goodness of his heart and belief by continuously throwing himself at this kind of sin, sin of the flesh, with a man, but right now, it was the only real thing that kept him here, his love and relationship with Daryl plus the love for his brother was the only thing that really kept him from fully slipping, so here he was, taking it, embracing it and letting it consume him whenever he could.

"We just killed four guys, man" Daryl reminded him, trying to fight it not just because of that, but also because he still felt trapped and uncomfortable whenever someone got rough with him, tried to manhandle him into something he didn't really want.

"I fuckin know…why do ye think I need this shit right now" Connor said, between his continuous kissing Daryl's mouth and licking his neck and all his rutting against him.

For a moment, Daryl actually buried his fingers in Connor's hair and used the motion to pull him back, to make him look at him, in his eyes, really _deep_. And he could see the worry. Sure. Connor certainly was nowhere as fucked psychologically as he'd been last year. And he honestly looked alright and calm and normal for the most part. But still, because they were such good friends, because Daryl knew him inside out by now, and because they had that connection, he could see the trouble also.

Naturally and of course, he thought it was weird. Stupid. Inappropriate to go ahead and do this now. So soon after the mess of a night yesterday, so soon after they'd had sex quite often ever since they had found each other again after Woodbury. But then again, he also acknowledged that this was the start of their relationship. That this was new and shiny and interesting to the both of them and that they liked to repeat it a lot at first. And most importantly. He acknowledged that for Connor, it wasn't just about the deed itself. It was almost like some stupid therapy. And although Daryl let out a little frustrated sigh he ended up giving in.

Because he deeply cared about his friend, because he wanted him to be alright, because he wanted to keep him here, and never see him slip into murderous madness. Connor immediately got the vibe and proceeded to kiss him again, keep him there against the tree, still rutting, and for a moment, he actually just kissed Daryl's mouth, really deep this time, actually, all tongue and clacking teeth with a sudden intensity and emotion that he usually lacked because of his character, but right now, everything was forgotten, everything was needed, everything was easy because he was running on that adrenaline and high and powerfulness from his murders.

So he kept kissing Daryl and the quickly moved his mouth down, after a moment, breathing hot and harsh against his skin as he licked and kissed his neck once again, making Daryl shiver and gave him goose bumps from the wet trails against the cold harsh autumn wind. In the end, despite the fuckedupness – and he tried really hard to completely ignore the smoke and stare in the other direction instead – it didn't take long and Daryl got hard, felt a sudden urge rush over him, too.

He would never admit it, especially not now when this was so wrong and inappropriate, but it was the fact that they were in the woods and that there was the bark of a tree digging into his back that turned him on. Because this was new, because this was his usual, favourite environment, because he loved nature and the woods just as much as he loved Connor.

And it was that what made him feel a bit more comfortable with the fact that Connor was still having the upper hand, still in control of everything, still kind of keeping him trapped between his arms, pressed against the tree. Daryl certainly was more tense because of all these factors, but at the same time, he didn't stand a chance against the intense shiver that overcame him, the fact how much he freaking _liked_ this whole thing, how it made him almost rockhard and pulsate with need and urge, until Connor finally let both his hands travel down on him, all the while kissing and biting and licking at his neck as he worked the belt and jeans open, making him do the same to his belt and his jeans.

They only lowered their layers of clothing down enough to gain access but not an inch more because it was so cold, but it was the cold that at the same time only intensified everything, made their groins feel that much hotter and strained because they both needed release badly by now.

Before Daryl could even attempt to reverse their positions or try to initiate yet other mutual jerking off session Connor actually already started to thrust against him, awkwardly trying to maneuver his manhood between Daryl's legs and under his balls, to try and create friction there, maybe even to try and make it the proper deal, which immediately made Daryl tense and panic.

"Hey, don't" he warned but his voice was shaky and dark and aroused, quickly digging his fingers hard into Connor's ass to make him stop thrusting.

"I won't..I won't, I know I know I know, alright" Connor said, completely beside himself and obviously more than eager to come, but at the same time, accepting the boundaries, accepting his friend's past and the fact that he wasn't ready yet. But at the same time, he wouldn't have any role reversal right now either, wouldn't accept any bottoming out of sheer understanding or any just jerking each other off as the next best thing. No. He needed this right here, needed to be in charge and ride this wave a little longer, even if it meant that he would have to pretend.

He quickly adjusted their position a bit and placed both his hands on Daryl's naked and freezing butt, between the skin and bark, for support of each of his thrusts, pulling himself closer only to sway out again, only to thrust again, continuously causing friction between Daryl's hairy thighs that were covered in goosebumps.

It was a bit strange and awkward for Daryl because this way, there wasn't enough friction on his own aching dick, but the truth was that he didn't even really need it this time, the wind, the smell of leaves, the sight of the woods all around them, the bark against his bare skin and the feel of Connor between his legs just under his balls and so freaking _close_ was already enough for him as he took each rough thrust against the tree, even let out a little shout in approval as he heard Connor moan against his neck, felt him hold him tighter and tighter, felt him squeeze harder and harder, almost as if he wanted to rip him apart.

It was actually really surprising to feel how much his friend seemed to need it all of the sudden, when he'd been so calm and collected for the rest of the night, how much he needed something alive and thriving after all the death that in the end, he had caused himself.

Daryl eventually clamped his legs together a little more, shifted and moved even more, letting go, so much, to a point that he was surprised to understand that he almost _wanted_ Connor to just go ahead and thrust _up_ , because he already knew what that felt like, had gotten used to the pain in the past, no matter how fucked up and sad that was.

Maybe he even wanted just that now, wanted that invasion of someone else to make the old wounds go away and force them out, to kill any old traces of his abuser, fill him with better, more enjoyable, pleasurable memories instead because much in contrast to this asshole of a father, he knew this man right here would only do it because he _loved_ him, wanted to share and heal, not to hurt and destroy and belittle.

But not yet. He just almost _pressed_ his legs together on Connor, causing more hot and almost burning friction, making it harder for him to keep thrusting until it didn't even matter anymore because then he came, the rhythm stuttering and pressing Daryl harder against the tree, coming against the bark behind him with a little shout, shivering and shaking until he calmed down.

"It's alright, man" Daryl breathed after a moment, stroking Connor's lower back and slender waist, only to move the hand down to feel his bare ass instead, without any second thoughts, kissing and gently biting his neck, too, because he knew Connor liked it and immediately got yet another shiver as response.

Connor even let out a little breathy snort and the looked up a bit to kiss Daryl properly again, all the while moving a hand forward to wrap it around him and start jerking him off. The hunter actually kind of wanted to fuck him in this moment, because of the scenery and previous thoughts and all and because he was slightly needy by now, too, but the moment he felt the cold hand on his heated throbbing and hard dick it didn't even really matter anymore.

Connor tugged a few times and then kissed Daryl again, chuckling a little bit, now incredibly head over heels after all the killing _and_ the sex.  
He even went so far and admitted something entirely stupid.

"I think I'd fucking blow ye right now if it weren't so fuckin gross" he suddenly said and Daryl couldn't help but laugh, although it was shaky and higher than usual because he was close. He'd never received a blowjob in his whole life, didn't know what that felt like, he'd only seen Merle one time or seen it during Merle and his buddy's stupid movies, but nothing else.

"Hey, I don't think 's…that gross" he said, attempting an innocent suggestion, although he knew that just like him, Connor had his rules and lines that shouldn't be crossed.

"Oh is that right then…well ye can go right ahead and blow me, then, if I gotta work me ass off here" he said, still almost roughly moving his hand on Daryl, which made the hunter moan a bit but at the same time laugh once more.

"I mean _yah_ blowin _me_ ain't gross, jackass."

"Well…if ye let me..do the fuckin next time…maybe I'll think 'bout it, _jackass_ " Connor teased but then immediately moved closer again, groaning a bit, too, because he could feel his friend _pulse_ in his hand, _fuck_. He just ended up half hugging him again, twisting more and moving the hand faster.

"Fuckin come already…'m freezing my ass off, Jesus Christ" he complained but then laughed a little when Daryl just dug his teeth into his shoulder to shut him up but at the same time, then using it to muffle his groan when Connor finally and successfully managed to get him off, too.

Connor moved his hand a little longer, milking his friend dry until Daryl flagged, sated at last, which just made his friend smile, despite the still obvious grossness of it all. It was cold so he eventually pulled Daryl's briefs and jeans back up again, then his own, only to capture his mouth again, to give him a calmer kiss, a less heated embrace.

"Thanks" he said after a moment, until Daryl just looked at him, eyed him a bit, looking for anything wrong in his eyes, his mind. But Connor seemed okay. There was only calmness and love and appreciation showing in his eyes. That, and some obvious smugness. Daryl just looked at his friend for a while and then let out a little sigh.

"Next time yah gotta kill someone, just freakin _shoot_ them alright" he said, pulling Connor right back to where they had started. "Going all psycho and brutal.." he muttered, looking at their still close bodies. "That ain't you."

Because he knew his friend wasn't murderous and dangerous at heart. Otherwise, shit like this right here, the kissing, the holding, the admitting, this wouldn't happen. The look on Connor's face got a bit more distant, a bit more colder, but then he eventually nodded.

"Fine" he said, but part of Daryl wasn't too sure whether he could trust him. Sadly.

He quickly initiated a little kiss of his own to try and salvage the situation and Connor kissed back, but then he just let go.

"We should go back. Get going. If we stay here fer too long, walkers could crawl here cos of the shootout last night."

"Right" Daryl said, still eyeing Connor but adjusting his clothes and zipping himself up, closing the belt.

"I saw another sign on my way down here" Connor said as he quickly walked back to the creek to get the rest of his things back. "I think we're close."

"That we are" Daryl muttered, but when Connor looked up he wouldn't say anything anymore and just gave him a tiny smirk.

* * *

"Yer not taking te fucking thing, alright. I'll get it."

"Oh fuck ye, ye know I can't shoot straight fer shit anymore, because of this thing right here?" Murphy said, pointing at his forehead, tapping at it with his finger multiple times. "This thing's gonna be better fer me!"

"Bullshit, this thing takes a lotta more skill and fuckin patience ta shoot and hit something so it's just gonna…go…oh do fuckin tell him, Daryl. Ye know what 'm fuckin talking about, right?!" Connor complained angrily, as he continuously tried to take the bow and arrow from Murphy, who equally eagerly tried to take it right back.

One of the guys they had killed had come here with that bow and his bunch of arrows. Sure, they had guns now once more. Nice rifles, handguns, the whole deal, just like back in their old time. _But how fucking awesome was the bow compared to that?_ Especially after so many months of traveling with a fucking archer. So fuck yeah did he want this thing as his new weapon now. Daryl looked up from his trying to stuff the rest of the guns into a backpack, staring at the MacManus twins, until he just snorted and shook his head with an amused smirk.

"Fuck no, I ain't gonna side with nobody here" he said and Connor just got even angrier.

"Oh ye know what, fuck you" he said angrily and then took the bow right back from his brother. "And fuck you, too. I get this fucking thing. I came out first, I got the say, I killed tha motherfucker so I get ta fuckin keep the bow."

"Fuck you, you ain't older, this is probably just a fuckin stupid agenda of yers trying ta trick me inta shit with yer plans but I ain't buying it. And even if I'm younger, then yer sapposed ta fuckin spoil me and give me the shit I want you motherfucker!" Murphy snarled and tried to pull once more, but Connor shoved him. Then Murphy shoved back, then Connor shoved back once more. Until they got into a scuffle over it.

"Ye just wanna act like yer him ye fuckin copycat!" Connor roared between lazily kicks and hits.

"Ye fuckin wish, what are ye gonna do if I did, fuck _me_ next?!"

"You mother…."

"Let go of me ye fuckin…" they both argued and yelled, now rolling around on the floor, making Samantha laugh and Daryl roll his eyes as he got up and then simply took the bow, which the MacManus twins had dropped so they could fight over it.

"Yah'll too stupid t'shoot shit anyway. And I could use the arrows. So ain't no one gonna take it but me,a real hunter" he said and simply walked back to his backpack, making Connor and Murphy freeze mid-fight, looking at him, with Connor on top of Murphy trying to press his face into the mud, and Murphy with a painful knee in his stomach.

"Bullshit, yer not even a real hunter ye fuckin wannabe…" Murphy roared and Connor let go of his twin to approach Daryl instead, now his sweetest most charming grin on his face. "Dar…" he said and Daryl narrowed his eyes at him, in disbelief. "Sweet Dar…" Connor said, wrapping an arm around his friend, pulling him in a bit. "C'mon. Ye saw me shoot those rabbits yesterday…and ye know 'm a good shot. Besides, ye already got yer crossbow and…Rambo knife and all…so don'tche think that I should…"

"Yer ain't playing fuckin fair ye asshat!" Murphy roared behind him and Connor turned around to snap at him.

"Shut up and pack yer fuckin shit together! We wanna leave!"

Then he turned around again to smile at Daryl, still patting him, looking at the bow in his hands.

"And ye know that I…"

"….Nah" Daryl said, after having looked at Murphy with a little smirk. Murphy stilled in his tracks and looked back at them, pointing at Connor with a triumphant "HAA!"

"Oh come on now, give it ta Connor, wouldye" Connor kept going, but it was useless.

"Nah" the hunter just said once more, fully enjoying that he had the upper hand over his usual dickhead friend who loved to make fun of everyone.

"Oh fucking go get fucked, man" Connor said angrily and let go, dropping the charming act and turning around to get his own stuff together because they wanted to leave.

Samantha was still laughing in the background. Daryl was grinning. And Murphy, with his attention span of a goldfish, had forgotten about the cause of their argument anyway, no longer interested in the bow, too, collecting their stuff along with his brother, believing himself to be the winner of this thing anyway. Daryl just kept smiling and watched them, tugging the bow and arrows behind his shoulder right next to his crossbow, keeping it for Connor because he knew he was going to give it to his friend anyway. Not just because of favoritism and their relationship, but also because Connor was right. Murphy wouldn't be able to really handle it with his brain injury. It wasn't like he was stupid, but when he couldn't even really shoot straight with guns, then it wouldn't be much help anyway.

And he had seen Connor get better and better with his crossbow, so there was no debate. He shot one last look at laughing Samantha, who was kissed by a fake 'broody' Murphy a moment later, then looked at Connor with a smirk, only to shoot a final look at the crashed jet and the Terminus sign in the distance.

He knew they were close now. He knew that they'd reach the place by sundown.

Connor had already come up with all his strategies, plans, backup plans and cautions. And now that they had survived this mess, now that they were leaving another wreckage behind, now that they had fought off and killed another bunch of scumbags and taken their weapons, with their relationships and bonds stronger than ever, they sure as hell were prepared. Stronger. Better. Now more than ever.

He grabbed the last bit of their stuff and then followed Connor, Murphy and Samantha when they got going, turning their back on the crashed jet, their previous failures and victories, the past. Now, a new future was ahead of them. A new place was coming.

Terminus was waiting for them.  
And they were ready.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I had to write Connaryl sex in the woods. I know it's cliche but I don't care. HA.


End file.
